


Be My Baby

by followyourenergy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baby (Supernatural) - Freeform, Business Owner Dean Winchester, CEO Castiel (Supernatural), Car restoration, Civilian Pilot Castiel (Supernatural), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Overidentification with inanimate objects, Photographer Castiel (Supernatural), Pining, Road Trips, time capsules
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-09-24 01:47:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20350345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/followyourenergy/pseuds/followyourenergy
Summary: When restoring his beloved car, a gorgeous lady named Baby that he inherited from a friend, Castiel Novak finds a box in her trunk—a time capsule, put there by two young boys many years ago. Moved by its contents, Castiel brings the box back to its owners, Dean and Sammy Winchester. There’s an instant spark between Castiel and Dean—first of attraction, then of anger.  They both love Baby, and both of them want her. They take their conflict to the road, each convinced of their rightness and determined to do what it takes for what they want the most. For love.As they battle for Baby, two men discover the meaning of history, of home, and of finding what you’re truly looking for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lorelei2005](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorelei2005/gifts).

> Welcome to the second of three Fic Facers stories! This one is for bidder Lorelei2005, who gave me the idea of a lost item found in Baby and Cas returning it to Dean. I also give her credit for the restoration shop and Sam in a tank top. 😂

Castiel Novak stands in his driveway, admiring his favorite lady as she winks at him in the sunlight.

The ‘67 Chevy Impala is gorgeous. A true find. He found her in an overgrown yard three years ago on the edges of Pontiac, Illinois, hidden amongst weeds, gasoline signs, and rusted-out refrigerators. The man who owned her was a distrustful, ornery sort who’d shoot you as soon as talk to you. Castiel knows, because he was shot at several times. Fortunately, the guy also had lousy eyesight, and Castiel was able to dodge the BBs after being grazed the first time. He stayed persistent, and when he discovered the key to the man’s heart—bacon cheeseburgers and Budweiser—he was able to make it onto the front steps to chat him up. It took a few months to win him over, but eventually, the man—who he nicknamed Salty, much to his delight—let him get his hands on the black beauty he’d gotten in a poker game years before. Castiel couldn’t believe someone would bet the car in a stupid card game. Salty loved the car but didn’t have the money or the know-how to fix it. And though Castiel coveted the girl, by that point he’d grown to treasure his friendship with Salty, so instead of continuing his attempts to woo him into selling her to him so he could restore her, he offered to restore her for Salty so he could enjoy her—with someone else driving, of course. Salty accepted. After that, he made the hour-long trip (or more, depending on traffic) from his home in Bolingbrook to Pontiac every weekend and even some weekdays to fix her up and talk cars and conspiracy theories. 

A year after he met Salty—whose actual name, he found out eventually, was Frank Devereaux—he became sick. He brought Salty to his home to recover, but he never did, and ended up passing away from cancer he refused to treat. The man had no family to speak of, having lost his wife and two children tragically when he was very young, so Castiel took care of his arrangements at his own cost and consulted the family attorney to look into the legalities of what could only loosely be called an estate. Everything, it turned out, was left to him, Salty having made a will without his knowledge. The lot was cleaned up and sold, any salvageable items were donated, Salty’s debts were paid, and Castiel kept Baby (which was, apparently, the name she had when Salty won her). 

Castiel loves the car, but he loved and misses Salty, too, and he’d trade her for Salty’s life in a heartbeat. Still, he’s grateful for the girl, and even more grateful that they got to drive the Impala around Pontiac and Bolingbrook a few times before he passed. He’d never seen him look as happy as when he was riding shotgun in that car.

Today, he’s going to lay new carpet in the trunk. “Almost done, Baby,” he coos, patting her rear lovingly. He lifts the lid and assesses the work ahead. 

There isn’t much to do. The trunk isn’t all that bad, not compared to how the rest of her looked. Dents, scrapes, a broken window, a nest near the engine...he’s poured a lot of sweat, tears, and even some blood into her (followed up by a tetanus shot just in case), as well as money. He’s spent lots of money on cars over the years, but it doesn’t hurt—he has plenty, thus Salty’s nickname of “Richie” for him. Mostly he buys, restores, and then sells or donates them. It’s a hobby. Baby, though...Baby’s staying with him.

Castiel tunes into a classic rock station as he gets to work. Soon he’s covered in sweat, and black fibers darken his arms. His nose twitches; he swipes at it, transferring the fibers to his face. 

When the old carpet has been conquered and it’s laying in defeat on the hot pavement, Castiel wipes his brow and assesses his work. 

That’s when he sees it.

“What the hell is that?”

He thinks it’s a first aid kit initially. The white metal box has rusty edges and hinges, and it’s wrapped in duct tape. He picks it up and shakes it. It rattles up a storm. Curious about its contents, he snatches a utility knife from his toolbox and cuts the tape until he can get to the latch. Expecting to see yellowed bandage wrappers and an old bottle of antiseptic, he’s shocked at what he finds.

Keys on a _ Ghostbusters II _ keyring. A pair of dice. A couple of rocks. Army men (he’d dug a couple of those out of Baby’s vents). Three dollars. A sandwich bag with a photo of a woman and two small children. A piece of paper behind that, folded in four.

Castiel takes the box inside and places it on his dining room table. He washes the sweat and grime off his hands, then spreads the contents of the box onto the table. He opens the sandwich bag and carefully slips the photo and paper out. The woman in the picture is lovely, blonde and tall. The children are _ very _ young, one an infant and the other maybe four or five years old. They’re in front of a green house with columns. _ Mary, Dean, and Sam, _the penciled notation reads on the back of the photo. _ Summer 1983_. Hmm. 

The folded paper is a letter, torn from a school notebook. It was clearly written by a child, though an older one. It’s mostly neat except for several streaks of erased graphite that look like comet tails. Castiel sits and reads:

_ August 12, 1989 _

_ To whoever finds this, _

_ You found our time capsule! We hid cool stuff in here from 1989! Here is a list:_

_Dice: I (Dean) won these from Loki’s Arcade. We play games in the car with them. Sammy used to stick them in his mouth. Once he tried to jam one up his nose._

_Army men: Sammy and me play with these in the car. There’s some in the vent of our car. Did you find those, too?_

_Keys: These are from our house in Lawrence. It’s not there now, but Dad said we’ll go back to live in Lawrence someday and rebuild it, once he can get a job. Uncle Bobby said he’s greeving and we won’t go back any time soon._

_Keyring: Ghostbusters 2 rules!_

_Rocks: We found these rocks at a river. Mine looks like a heart. Sammy’s looks like nothing, but he says it looks like a chicken nugget. _

_Money: So you can mail this back to us. Put a note in to tell us what year it is and where you live!_

_Picture: That’s my mom and Sammy and me. He’s the baby. This is the only picture I have of my mom, so please send it back, even if you want to keep everything else._

_The box: It’s just a box._

_The car we hid this in: The car’s name is Baby. Yes, she has a name, and yes, she’s a girl. She’s awesome. I want her someday, but I’m kind of scared my dad won’t let me. _

_So that’s it! 1989 is pretty okay. I’m 10 years old and my brother is 6. I don’t know how old I’ll be when you find this, but I hope it’s not too old! _

_ Write back soon! We are on the road a lot, but here is the address of the house in Lawrence: 1841 Kennedy St., Lawrence, KS 66044. I think the post office will keep our mail until we get back. By the time you read this, we should be back there, anyway! _

The letter is signed by _ Dean Winchester, 10_, in jagged cursive, and underneath his name is a large, blocky _ Sammy 6_, written in crayon. 

Castiel smiles to himself. Two brothers making a time capsule. It reminds him of similar time capsules he made with his siblings, though they always dug them up within a month. Sometimes they didn’t even bury them, just stuck them in the attic.

These boys are older now, for sure, but certainly not “too old” (though to a ten year old, “too old” could have been fifteen or twenty). He wonders if they even remember making this capsule. He wonders what he should do with it. After all, most of the things are inconsequential now. But the picture...is it really the only photo they have of their mother? Is she dead? Did she disappear to parts unknown? Is she the one their father is “greeving”? 

Castiel sighs. They’re long gone by now, he’s certain. And yet…

He texts Charlie:

_ To Charlie 1:42pm: Got a challenge for you. A mystery. _

_ To Castiel 1:44pm: Ooh! Nancy Drew to the rescue! What rare, exotic beauty am I finding for you this time? _

_ To Charlie 1:45pm: No cars this time. People. _

_ To Castiel 1:47pm: Even better. Gimme what you got. _

He texts her what he knows—which isn’t much—and lets her do what she does, however she does it (he’s been told not to ask, so he doesn’t). Then, having done what he can do, he gets back outside to his Baby.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will I ever get sick of writing besties Cas and Charlie? No, I will not.

A long, lithe body lines up behind his as he’s cleaning up Baby’s trunk. She runs small, dexterous hands up his hips and over his chest. He bends his knees a little more so that she can place her head near his ear. Her red hair falls over his shoulder. “Hey, babe.”

“Hey, beautiful.”

She kisses his ear, then whispers in a sultry voice, “So...still gay?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Me too!”

They laugh as the redhead, Charlie, gives him a playful hug from behind. They’ve been jokingly doing “gay checks” since he rescued her from a smarmy asshole at a bar who wouldn’t believe her when she said she was gay and thought he could “change her mind”. He turns in her arms and hugs her properly.

“You’re wet and smelly.”

“Yes, thank you for noticing.”

“So, I thought you had a challenge for me, Cas.”

Castiel raises his brows. “No?”

“Not even close,” Charlie scoffs. “I found them _ and _ had time to eat a Hot Pocket before I came here.”

“Hot Pocket? You’re paid well. You don’t have to eat like you’re in college.”

“They’re _ delicious_. And so, by the way, are Dean and Sammy Winchester.”

Castiel raises a brow. “Really.”

“Uh huh. Come on inside and make me a drink, and I’ll show you.”

“It’s my house and _ you’re _ inviting _ me _in it. Nice.”

“And you get to make me a drink, don’t forget.”

“Lucky, lucky me.” 

“Extra fruity.” She gives him a cheesy smile.

“No comment.”

He finishes cleaning up Baby while she watches, then they walk inside together. Charlie flops onto his couch as if she owns the place. “I’ll see what’s on TV while you shower. Go wash. Off with you.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” He grins at her before sauntering down the hall and into the bathroom. He was going to save the shower for after she left, but she’s right—he reeks of automobile and good old-fashioned Illinois humidity sweat. _ Ick_. 

One quick shower and a pair of cut-off lounge pants later, Castiel pads into the kitchen and makes Charlie’s favorite kind of margarita: strawberry-raspberry. He brings it out to her, along with a beer for himself. “Alright, Nancy, show me what you found.”

Charlie pulls out a picture printed on standard white copy paper. “Okay. Samuel Winchester, age 35, born in Lawrence, Kansas to Mary and John Winchester. School records all over the place until age eight, when they relocated to Sioux Falls, South Dakota to live with one Robert Singer, who became their legal guardian. Excellent student, played basketball, was on the debate team in high school. Went to Stanford, got a degree in business there and some car repair certifications later, part-owner of Winchester Auto Repair and Restoration in Sioux Falls. Married to Eileen Winchester, has one child, Henry.” 

The man is handsome. He looks like he should be modeling camping gear for L.L. Bean. “Restoration. Interesting.”

“Right?” She pulls out a second printout. “Dean Winchester, age 39, also born in Lawrence to Mary and John. Same deal with the school records until age twelve, when he also moved in with Singer. Average student, was on the wrestling team. Got an associate’s degree in Automotive Technology at Southeast Technical Institute in Sioux Falls, got his ASE and a bunch of other certifications. He’s the other owner of Winchester Auto Repair and Restoration. Single, no children.”

His brother is handsome, but Dean…light brown hair, green eyes, a pout to die for...if Sammy is a model, then Dean is the model on which all other models are judged.

“Nice, right?”

“Quite.”

“Yeah. And look at this. The sign for their business? It’s Baby.”

Castiel gazes at the photo. It’s definitely a ‘67 Impala on the sign. “Huh.”

“Yeah. So. Gonna meet up with them?”

He hums. “I don’t know. I mean, what if they want her back? She’s not like my other cars. I’m really attached to her. She reminds me of Salty, and...I don’t know, Char. It feels like I’m her adoptive parent and I’m bringing her to meet her biological family. I mean, I know they have memories of her, but she’s mine. I was the one who found her and built her back up.”

Charlie lays a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. But I looked at all that stuff on your table and…” She shrugs. “I think it would be nice.”

“Maybe.”

“You could at least give them their time capsule back.”

“True.”

“Maybe scope ‘em out. If they’re jerks, you can tell them you sold the car and you don’t know where it ended up. Or maybe just tell them you came across the box in some flea market or abandoned storage unit sale or something. But if they’re nice and don’t seem like they’d be Baby-stealing assholes, you could show them pictures. Or, maybe even drive the car out there. Got time now. You know?”

With a deep sigh, Castiel says, “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I should at least return the picture to them. The letter said it’s the only one they had. I’m not sure if that’s because they were kids or—”

“Their mom is dead.”

Castiel and Charlie both know that pain. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So I should definitely return their things. Probably in person.”

“Yeah.” She wrinkles her nose. “I know you’re nervous about it, but it seems like the right thing to do. And the right thing to do is what you usually do. You’re quite noble for a CEO. Former CEO.”

He rolls his eyes. “Check my schedule and let me know when I’m free for a long weekend. I’ll get my flight plan set up accordingly.”

“Check your own schedule.”

“What kind of Assistant to the CEO are you?”

“I’m not your assistant anymore, Mr. Former CEO.”

“I made you your favorite margarita.”

“I did research.”

“You want me to do this.”

“It’s up to you. Doesn’t matter to me either way.”

“Liar. You’re dying of curiosity.”

With a put-upon sigh, she says, “Fine.” She pulls out her phone. His schedule is still synced to it. “Not this coming week, bucko. Do you know that retirement means, you know, free time? Jeez. The following week, I think you could leave on Thursday afternoon.”

He looks over her shoulder. “Wednesday afternoon? I can meet with everyone at Equality Illinois via teleconference for Thursday morning’s meeting.”

“Why earlier?”

“Sightseeing.”

“In South Dakota?”

Castiel shrugs. “I’ve never been. I want to see if I can find another car.”

“Of course you do.” 

“Baby’s almost done!”

“Uh huh.” She scrolls a bit. “Yeah, okay, we can do that. But late Wednesday afternoon.”

“All right.”

“You want me to call Winchester Auto?”

He shakes his head. “I’m going to play this one by ear.”

Charlie salutes him. “You’re the boss.”

“You’d never know it.”

Laughing, Charlie hugs his arm. “Take me out to dinner. I want sushi.”

“Your wish is my command. Apparently.”

On a Wednesday afternoon a week and a half later, Castiel chats with Billie about her first board meeting by herself as the new CEO of Angelus Airlines as she drives him to the airport. He groomed Billie to be his replacement. She’s the first CEO outside of the Novak family, and he couldn’t be happier about it. Billie is sharp, fair, kind, has a great head for business, and is a hell of a pilot besides. She values safety, innovative research, and people. Not to slight his own kin, but he firmly believes that she’s the best choice to lead Angelus Airlines into a secure future—and thankfully, both the family and the search committee agreed. 

Though he’s only 43, he just retired, his early retirement possible because of the family fortune, his own sound financial planning, and his development of patented technology that has improved airplane engine performance, pinpointed potential failures sooner, and guided pilots in engine failure situations better. Safety has improved in the industry overall since his technology became widely available. It’s his legacy, and he’s proud of it. Now, he gets to reinvent himself, to do what he’s been longing to do.

Castiel told Charlie that his retirement plans are to hook up for threesomes everywhere he goes—“me, a hot man and a lovely lady.” They both know what he really means is a guy with a great car. And furthermore, what they both _ really _ know he means is that he’s going to travel around the country looking for cars and doing photography. As far as a man, well, he’s rarely had occasion for a relationship in the last decade or two, and not for very long when he has. Most men haven’t been able to handle the demands of his work, his tendency toward simple living but expensive hobbies that don’t center around social activities and “spoiling” them, or his wanderlust. Maybe, in retirement, that will change and he’ll find someone who really understands him, someone who wants him for him. Charlie is hopeful. Castiel is not.

“Don’t go falling in love with South Dakota now,” Billie says warmly. “We’d miss you.” 

Castiel chuckles. “Thanks, Billie.”

“No need to thank me. It’s purely selfish.” She smiles and squeezes his arm. “Hey. It’s a good thing you’re doing.”

“We’ll see.”

“You know it is. Have a safe flight and a good trip.”

“Thank you. Enjoy your first board meeting as CEO. I know you’ll slay it, Killer.” She laughs as he gives her a hug goodbye. He grabs his luggage and the keys to his plane. “See you soon.”

The trip is uneventful, his hotel in Sioux Falls is unremarkable, and his nervousness is undeniable when he drives his rental to Winchester Auto Repair and Restoration on Thursday. He sits in a rented Nissan Altima, dressed in a suit since he didn’t know whether to be casual, pondering what he’ll tell the two men into whose lives he unwittingly earned a glance. The truth? A white lie? A complicated yarn? He breathes deeply and releases it slowly. Like he told Charlie, he’ll play it by ear. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Cas meets the Winchester brothers. 😊


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so they meet.

Dean Winchester has a busy Thursday planned. Their office manager, Christa, has no problem reminding him of it. 

“No fucking around at Benny’s today,” she says. “You have—”

“I know, jeez, Chris. You’ve only told me five times since I poured my coffee.” He sips at it and ignores her disgusted glance, just as she ignores his when she cracks open a can of Diet Coke at 6:45 in the morning. 

“And _ I _ know how you get caught up over there gabbing like a magpie.”

“Gumbo invites conversation, what can I say?”

“You can say, ‘Yes, Christa, I will be here when I’m supposed to be so that you can go home on time.’”

“Why do you wanna do that? It’s only Teddy and the kids waitin’ for you. You know the kids don’t take their noses out of their electronics enough to notice you’re there. Besides, your boyfriend is here.”

“Yeah, but sometimes I have to be a responsible adult, and this is one of those times. Aiden has a game and it’s my parental duty to be there, screaming his name until he dies of embarrassment.”

“Ah, moms.” Dean grins at their office manager. “He played awesome the other night.”

“Thank you.”

“Not sure why you’re taking credit.”

“I birthed him, that’s why.” She peeks behind him. “Hey, honey!”

“Hey, sugar muffin.” Dean’s brother, Sam, lumbers around him and parks his ass on the edge of her desk until she scowls at him. He scoots off, then hands her a plastic grocery bag with empty Tupperware containers. “Eileen and Henry both loved the cookies and she wants the recipe.”

“I know. She already texted me and I sent it.”

“Why did she tell me to tell you, then?”

“Probably to see if you’d remember. Good job. I’ll let her know you passed.” She smirks and picks up her phone, probably to text Sam’s wife, her best friend. Christa’s the one who set Eileen up with Sam nine years ago. Flirty as she can be with him, it’s all in good fun. She’s been married to a terrific guy she’s crazy about for over twenty years and has two teenagers. Dean often catches her taking pictures of Sam at work (usually wearing one of his white tanks), then sending them to Eileen with offers to take Henry for an overnight so that Eileen can “hit that.” It cracks Dean up. But sometimes, Christa is like a pain in the ass older sister. 

“Tell Chris I can be on time,” Dean whines to his brother. 

“Is it gumbo day?”

“Yes, but—”

“Never happen.”

He gives them both the finger as he storms off. He won’t be late. 

He’s not late, but only because he doesn’t get to leave. He’s just pulled the engine out of an El Camino when he receives a text from Christa:

_ To Dean 11:48am: There’s a guy here who’s asking Sam questions about your childhood and your mom. _

Dean drops his wrench with a _ clang _ and pushes his way past the other mechanics. He bursts into the waiting room with eyes only for _ who’s messing with Sam_.

Castiel steps into a clean, black-and-chrome waiting room that smells faintly of oil. He’s greeted by a lovely woman with blue eyes and dark, shoulder-length hair, wearing a t-shirt with the company logo across her chest—his Baby. 

“Hi! Do you have an appointment?”

“Um, no. Actually, I was hoping I could speak to Sammy or Dean Winchester.”

She furrows her brows. “About a restoration? Repair?”

“Neither. It’s...personal.”

The woman nods. “Let me see who I can dig up.” She picks up the phone and calls for Sammy—who is now, apparently, a more mature “Sam”—Winchester over an intercom system. 

Sam Winchester, he presumes, enters from a door to the woman’s left. His white tank top is stained with grease, his hair and jeans both hang from his tall, muscled frame, and his face is glowing from the heat of the day (and, presumably, from the heat in the garage). He’s handsome. Boyish. Not his type, but striking nonetheless. 

“Can I help you?” he asks.

“Perhaps,” Castiel says, putting on his professional demeanor so the man will take him seriously. “Are you Samuel Winchester?”

The man in question looks at him with suspicion. “Perhaps.”

Castiel blinks. “You are or you are not.”

“What is this about?”

With a deep breath through his nose and hoping he’s doing the right thing, he answers, “My name is Castiel Novak. Do you have a brother named Dean? And a mother whose name was Mary?”

The long-haired man stares as the woman gasps audibly. “Why do you want to know?” he asks.

Castiel scrutinizes him and wonders where he’s gone wrong with his approach. He now wishes he’d prepared for this a little better. He clears his throat and tries to be a little more relaxed. “My apologies for making you uneasy. I...encountered something, and I have reason to believe it may belong to you and your brother. However, I’d like to verify that. May I ask you a few questions?”

“I guess.”

“Is your brother four years older than you?”

“Yup.”

“Did you once live in Kansas?”

“When I was a baby.”

“And later with a man named Robert Singer?”

The man—Sam, it _ must _ be Sam—takes a step back. “How—”

Dean catches the tail end of the conversation as he bursts into the waiting room. A man is standing at the reception desk—tall, dark hair, suit. Doesn’t look familiar. _ Lawyer? Detective? Some sleaze from Dad’s past? Well, he ain’t gettin’ anything from us. _

“Hey! Who the hell are you?”

The man turns startled blue eyes his way. _ Holy shit. If he’s not a sleaze, maybe he wouldn’t mind getting a little sleazy. _

“My name is Castiel Novak. And you are?”

Hot as he is, he doesn’t trust the guy just yet. “Not sayin’.”

The guy—Castiel? Yeah, Castiel—sighs. “I’m sorry to burst in on you like this, Mr. and Mr. Winchester. However—”

Christa poorly restrains a laugh as Dean’s mouth twists. “Dude, he’s not my husband.”

“I...assumed not. You are brothers, are you not? With the same last name?”

Dean feels his face flush. He rubs at his jaw. “Yeah, we just...well, we...get that a lot.”

Castiel nods. There’s an awkward silence before he says, “Well. This is going swimmingly.”

Sam and Christa both laugh, and even Dean smiles at Castiel’s dry humor before saying, “So, what’s this about?”

“How do you feel about _ Ghostbusters II_?”

Of all the questions he imagined, that didn’t even crack the top 500. “Uh...I haven’t seen it in forever, dude. It’s...okay. What—”

“You once seemed to think it ‘ruled.’” He holds up a keychain, keys dangling from it. It takes Dean a moment, but then…

“Holy shit. You found it.”

He nods, with a slight smile, and picks up a cloth bag by his feet. 

“What’s going on?”

“Sam. He _ found _it,” Dean says, now filled with anticipation instead of suspicion. 

“Found what?” Sam peers at the white box that Castiel has placed on the reception desk.

Dean ignores him and opens the box that once held a medical kit. Everything is there—the rocks, the dice, the Army men, the money. The letter. The picture, still in the original sandwich bag. He picks up the only photo he’s ever had of his mother, taken in front of their house in Lawrence, where he foolishly believed he’d return someday. Tears prickle his eyes. 

“Is that...is that Mom?”

“Yeah, Sammy. That’s Mom.” He knows he should hand it over to his brother, but he just can’t seem to let it go yet. Sam must understand, because he approaches and stands next to him, peering at it. “Holy shit. Holy shit. I can’t believe this. I never thought...wow. Shit.”

“Yeah,” Sam breathes. “She’s beautiful.”

Dean nods. 

“What’s that behind it?”

Dean flips the sandwich bag over. “The note we put in the box.” He frowns. He’d like to look at it, but his hands are covered in engine dirt. 

“Allow me.” Castiel takes the bag from Dean’s hands. Their fingers brush; Castiel gives him a small, apologetic smile that Dean returns, no apology beneath it. Castiel offers him the note he wrote ages ago. 

The brothers read it together, Sam laughing and Dean cringing at his ridiculous ten-year-old self. He’d been so hopeful, despite their shitty circumstances. 

“I don’t remember doing this, Dean,” Sam comments.

“You were only six, dude.” His eyes scan the letter again, then all of the objects, before finally resting on Castiel. There’s so much he wants to say to him. Most people would’ve thrown away a stupid kids’ time capsule, never thinking it could have any value. Monetarily, it doesn’t. But every object in it represents something to Dean, something important. This guy, somehow, knew that, and went out of his way to bring it to them. Castiel meets his gaze, not offering any words but saying a whole hell of a lot anyway just by everything he’s done.

Then, like lightning, a thought strikes him that nearly tears his brain in two. If Castiel has this, does it also mean that he has…

“Dude! Where did you find this?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh...


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What will Castiel say?

_ Truth or a lie? Truth or a lie? Truth or _

“I bought it as part of a storage unit sale. They empty storage units when payments aren’t made and sell off the things in them.”

Lie it is. There’s no way he’s letting them get Baby.

“Oh.” Dean nods, biting his lip as his shoulders droop. He is clearly disappointed. Castiel’s belly burns, but he’s not folding on this. 

“What’s the matter?” Sam asks.

“Nothin’, just...I hid this in Baby, under some carpeting in the trunk. Just thought maybe I finally found her. I’ve looked for such a long time.”

“Dad probably crashed her, Dean.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s handsome features look resigned, and Castiel breathes a little easier, if with guilt. If he’s resigned, that means he believes him, and he won’t press him. Dean turns eyes (gorgeous green eyes) toward him. “You get anything else in that sale?”

“Nothing notable. It’s all gone now. This I kept because...well, it seemed special.”

“Yeah. Hey, at least Dad kept it. I’m shocked, honestly.” The brothers share a heavy glance. With what little he knows, Castiel surmises they had a tough childhood, at least until Robert Singer came into their lives. The room quiets until the bell above the door rings, bringing in a customer. It’s at that point that the brothers and their assistant seem to understand that they’re working, and they straighten up and put on their “work” faces. The woman greets the customer, Sam glances at the clock, and Dean wipes his hands with a clean rag, then gathers everything into the box, carefully resting the photo on top. Castiel takes this as his cue.

“Well, I’ve kept you quite some time. My apologies. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Sam and Dean give their sincere thanks and the woman smiles and waves. Castiel gives a short nod and a wave in return, then makes his way out of the shop and to his rental car. _ Skirted a landmine, there, Castiel. _

“Altima, huh? Boooring.”

Castiel turns toward the voice. _ Dean_. His pulse quickens. “Rental cars are rarely exciting.”

“True. Where from?”

He frowns. “It’s from Enterprise.”

“No,” Dean laughs. It’s a beautiful laugh, robust and accompanied by a huge swath of white teeth. “Where are _ you _ from? People don’t rent unless they’re from away.”

“Or are having car problems.”

“Point.” Dean grins. “So? Where?”

“Illinois.”

“Illinois. You came a long way.”

Castiel shrugs, nods. 

Dean is staring at him, arms crossed and biting his lip again. Castiel’s gut flips. Does he not believe his story about the storage unit? Is he going to press him about Baby? Why does he have to be so damn gorgeous? What—

“Can I take you out to dinner?”

Castiel stares, open-mouthed and dumbfounded.

“Us, I mean. Me and Sam and his wife. To thank you. You...you really went out of your way to return a bunch of useless crap.”

“Um, well...the letter specifically said to return the photo. I couldn’t discard the only photo of someone’s mother.”

Dean’s eyes flick to the ground as he nods. Castiel recognizes the movement; the subject of his mother, even now, is painful, it seems. He feels the same. 

“Um, so, dinner? Tomorrow night? With me and Sam and Eileen? Unless you’re headed back before then.”

He could lie again. It would be easier to avoid any further contact. “Sure, I’m available,” he says. He can’t help the pull he feels toward Dean. It’s been some time since he’s felt this sort of instant attraction, and it’s fascinating and heady.

“Cool.”

And because he’s a glutton for punishment, Castiel adds, “You can feel free to bring your significant other as well, Dean.”

A tiny flicker of light passes through Dean’s eyes. “Don’t have one of those right now.”

“Oh. That’s...surprising.” _ For God’s sake, Castiel, stop talking! _

Dean chuckles. “Surprised you didn’t bring yours.”

“One would need to have one in order to bring one.”

“Huh. That’s...also surprising.”

They lock eyes until Castiel can’t stand the tension and clears his throat. “Well. Dinner. Time and place?”

Dean pulls his phone out of the pocket of his jeans. “What’s your number? I’ll text you.”

Castiel provides his number and Dean texts him a short message: A smiling emoji. He meets Dean’s eyes. “Got it.”

“Yeah.” They stare at each other once again, until a woman’s voice breaks the trance. 

“Dean! I’m not missing Aiden’s game tonight because you’re flirting! Get your ass in here! For crying out loud!”

“I’m not flirting!” Dean yells. He blushes. It’s adorable. “Sorry. Christa’s my employee, but you’d never know it.”

“I have a friend just like that. Annoying, isn’t it?”

“Very.”

They laugh before Dean tucks his phone away and takes a step back. “I should go. I’ll text you.” He rubs his hands together, seeming to hesitate before he finally says, “I like your pin.” Then, with a quick smile, he’s gone.

Castiel glances at his lapel. He’s wearing his rainbow heart. _ Well, shit. _

Dean is _ really _ glad he asked Castiel to dinner.

The guy is hilarious, dry-witted and acerbic. He gets along great with his family. And he’s hot. The dude is brainy enough to converse with Sam, shares a love of charity work with Eileen, and didn’t bat an eye about eating at Henry’s favorite restaurant—a 50s-style diner—after he pitched a fit in the parking lot of the fine dining place Dean chose because his parents told him they don’t have hot dogs. In fact, he even suggested that they go somewhere Henry liked, so that Sam and Eileen could enjoy their meal. He’s kind. Giving. Considerate of others. And, again, total eye candy. _ Damn._

It sucks that he lives in Illinois.

“How long are you here for?” Eileen asks.

“Through the weekend. I’m going to take in all there is to see while I’m here. I’ve never been.” He focuses on facing Eileen, who is Deaf but can read lips. He sprinkles in the handful of signs they’ve taught him during the meal, which only makes the guy hotter.

“There’s nothing to see here,” Sam laughs.

Castiel shrugs. “I drove out to Rowena today, then up to Big Sioux Recreation Area. I just...like to drive. My plan for the next several months is to drive around the country, see what there is to see. I love back roads and little places no one’s heard of.”

“Not in the Altima, though, right?” Dean asks. He shivers theatrically. 

“Perish the thought.” Castiel smiles crookedly, and Dean laughs. 

“You and Dean have a lot in common,” Sam notes. Dean was just thinking the same thing. While thinking of other things related to Castiel.

“Do you travel a lot, Dean?”

Dean clears his throat. “Used to. All the time, when we were kids. Now that we have the business, though, not so much.”

“I understand. My work limited me to weekends and the occasional week off, all of which still somehow ended up filled with work. Businesses are demanding mistresses.” His eyes crinkle at the corners with mirth, and Dean’s attraction grows. “Now that I’m retired, though, I’ll have a lot more time to...well, to be who I want to be next, I suppose.”

Dean smiles at that, and Castiel smiles, too, and it’s hard to continue the conversation because this...this is nice, right here. 

“You’re so young! What did you retire from?” Eileen asks.

Unfortunately, Castiel has to turn away. “I ran an airline.”

“Is that where you got your love of travel?”

“Yes, in part,” he confirms, making the _ yes _ sign with his hand. “It was my father’s business, then mine. I started as a pilot. I got to see this entire country by air, but now I’d like to see it on the open road.”

_ Damn. A hot, smart pilot and business owner. Nice. _

“Which airline? One we’d know?” Sam asks.

“Um...probably. Angelus?” He says it cautiously, almost apologetically.

_ Oh. Hot, smart pilot and owner of a HUGE national airline with a lot of cash to his name. Shit. _

“Uh, yeah, _ might’ve _heard of Angelus,” Sam laughs, which breaks the discomfort of the unexpected revelation. 

“We’ve flown Angelus. It’s a great airline. Henry loves planes,” Eileen explains to Castiel, signing “plane” for Castiel to copy, the motion like an “I love you” angled downward as her hand makes two small forward movements. Dean is very familiar with that sign, thanks to his nephew. Eileen smiles and nods at Castiel when he copies the sign flawlessly, then turns to her son. “Henry, Castiel used to fly real airplanes. We went on one of his company’s planes before.”

Dean’s nephew looks at Castiel with wide eyes. “You fly _ real planes_?”

“I did,” Castiel confirms. “I still do. I flew my plane”—he signs the word—“here to South Dakota. Maybe, if it’s okay with your parents, you can all come see it.”

Delighted cries rise into the air.

_ Hot, smart pilot and business owner of a huge airline with a lot of cash to his name and his own fucking plane who’s super nice to my family and came all the way out here just to bring me a picture of my mother. _ ** _Fuck_**_. _

Arrangements are made, and on Saturday they meet Castiel at the Maverick Air Center at Sioux Falls Regional Airport. Six-year-old Henry is in awe at the sheer size of the hangar and aircraft. Dean, admittedly, is starstruck as well. Castiel is a generous and down-to-earth host, letting them poke around and taking Henry into the cockpit. Dean is usually too terrified when he’s flying to notice how cool everything is, so he takes the opportunity to enjoy the mechanics of the beast while knowing he’s staying on the ground. It’s an opportunity that’s cut short when Castiel offers to take them for a ride.

“No way in hell,” he insists.

“Come on,” Castiel goads him. “It’s a perfect day for it. We’ll be able to catch the sunset.”

“Yeah, I can catch that on the ground, thanks.”

“Your nephew wants you to go.”

“It’s a great chance for him to learn how to handle disappointment.”

“Dean.” He smiles and places a hand on his shoulder; Dean feels all of his worries melt under it. “I don’t want to die, so I’m not going to crash the plane, okay?”

Despite himself, he laughs, and he goes. Seeing the look on Henry’s face is totally worth his terror. And seeing Castiel’s joy and comfort at flying is almost as worth it.

When they land and are saying their goodbyes and thank yous, Dean has a moment of panic. He’s probably never going to see Castiel again, and...well, he really wants to. He lingers behind when Sam and Eileen get Henry a snack from the vending machine in the lounge. 

“You said you’ve never been to Sioux Falls, so, uh, I was wonderin’ if you wanted a local to show you around tomorrow before you go. What do you think? You have time?”

Castiel hesitates, but eventually nods. “I have to leave in the afternoon, but...I’d really like that.”

Dean smiles, and Castiel smiles, and Dean’s never quite had this feeling before. It’s like he always imagined it would be like to drive Baby...a thrilling, wind-in-his-hair, smile-on-his-face experience. Well, if he can’t have Baby...maybe he can have Castiel. At least for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, I thought they were enemies? 😉
> 
> Rowena is a real place, less than 30 minutes from Sioux Falls. Imagine that. Found it completely by accident as I was researching and had to use it. 😂
> 
> Next chapter: It was nice while it lasted.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sparks fly.

On Sunday, they meet up for coffee and breakfast at Josiah’s, which got great reviews on Yelp and is how the restaurant was chosen. Dean’s never been himself, apparently. 

“Why did you want to meet here if you’ve never been?” Castiel asks.

Dean shrugs. “Didn’t want to subject you to crappy diners twice in one visit.”

“Why not? I love crappy diners.”

“Oh.” His companion seems surprised. “I figured you just said that so we wouldn’t feel bad when we had to go to one the other night.”

“Diners have the best food. Greasy, fatty, salty goodness.”

“Hear, hear.” They clink coffee cups. 

“It’s nice here, though. Rustic. Good vibe. I like the wood planks on the ceiling. And their coffee is outstanding.”

“Yeah. Never been a coffee snob, but I gotta admit, this is making me change my mind.” Dean grins over his cup, and his eyes catch the light just enough to make them sparkle. Castiel tries his damndest not to sigh. 

The waitress brings their meals, and the first thing Castiel does is reach for the homemade Pop-Tart he ordered on the side of his more respectable breakfast. “Uhhhhggghhh,” he gurgles as he bites into it. 

“Did you just channel Homer Simpson?”

He looks at Dean, who’s watching him with amusement. “Maybe, but these are amazing.” He takes a sip of the small glass of milk he ordered to go with his tart. “I lived on Pop-Tarts and Toaster Strudels when I was a kid. Takes me back.”

“I lived on Pop-Tarts, too,” Dean reminisces, though it seems less a fond memory and more a bittersweet one. Castiel says so and Dean shrugs. “They were portable and didn’t spoil easily. Plus they were full of sugar, so they kept me and Sammy quiet, for a little while, anyway.”

“I see.”

“Probably not.” He smiles ruefully at Castiel. “My mom died in a house fire. That’s why we don’t have pictures except for the one. That one was in the glove compartment of Baby, the car that the time capsule thing was in. Anyway, Dad went a little nutty after that. He took us and just...traveled the country for a while. Years. I guess, looking back, he was trying to get his head screwed on straight, but how can you, you know? He sort of caused the fire. Not on purpose, obviously, but…they were renovating the house and he fooled around with electrical stuff that he didn’t know how to fix but thought he did. It started a fire sometime in the night.”

Dean stops. Castiel smiles softly at him, his eyes telling him he can continue or not. Dean takes a breath, a sip of coffee, and another breath. Castiel waits.

“Yeah, so...I only heard the story from him once, when he was drunk, but he said he woke up and everything was already in flames. Mom wasn’t in the room, so he went to find her and us. He got us out, but he couldn’t find her. She was found in the spare bedroom. They figure she got disoriented trying to find us, and couldn’t find her way out. Died of smoke inhalation. Dad was never the same after that. None of us were, I guess.” Dean gazes into the distance. “I actually thought we’d rebuild, you know? That’s why the keys...yeah. Stupid, but I wanted to be as close to my mom as I could.”

Castiel understood. “That’s not stupid. My mom died years ago, and I still want to be close to her.”

Dean meets his eyes. “Sorry, man.” 

“You too.”

They sit in silence, gazing at each other in comfort and mutual understanding, until Dean continues, “Anyway. Baby became our home after that.”

Castiel, who’d been attending to Dean’s emotions more than his words, rewinds their conversation in his mind. “You...lived out of your car? As children? For years?”

“Yeah. Her and motels, mostly. Thing is, after a while it didn’t feel weird. It just felt normal. Like home. At least until we went to live with Bobby.”

“Bobby. Robert Singer.”

“Yeah. How did you know all that stuff about us, anyway?”

“My friend and former assistant, Charlie. She’s good with that sort of thing.”

“Huh. Well, I’m glad she is.”

Castiel smiles. “Me too.”

They eat and talk about lighter topics, then Castiel hops into Dean’s truck, a white 2016 GMC Sierra 1500. He thought Dean would have something more classic, or maybe another Impala. When he asks, Dean shrugs. “This is more practical. ‘Sides, it would feel like cheating if I got another car like Baby. I’ve never lost faith that I’ll find her someday.” He stares out the window, wistful, and Castiel grows uneasy, his guilt nibbling at his gray matter. “But this is fun, too,” he grins, revving the engine before taking off to see what Sioux Falls has to offer.

Sioux Falls has...falls. Lovely falls. Buildings...lovely buildings. Parks. A winery. Breweries. A medical museum. All lovely, all interesting...but Sioux Falls also has Dean Winchester, the loveliest attraction of everything he’s seen here. It’s dangerous, because it makes him weak. Learning about Dean, his story and who he is as a person...It’s all wonderful. But he has to remember not to fall for it. For him. Not that he’s ever fallen for anyone before, not like that. Dean, though..._No. Do not give in to childish crushes and hopes. _

“It’s too bad you don’t live around here,” Dean says as he brings him back to his rental, parked at Josiah’s. 

Foolish as his burgeoning crush is, Castiel can’t resist asking, “Oh? Why’s that?”

“Just...you’re a good guy, that’s all. It’d be nice to, um...to get to know you better.”

The air is heavy as they stare at each other. “Yes,” Castiel finally says. He has to be imagining Dean's suggestive tone, the longing in his eyes. “Well. Thank you for everything.”

Dean shakes his head. “No. Thank _ you_. You gave me a lot. More than you think.”

Castiel doesn’t dare attempt to interpret his words. He breathes, smiles, and offers his hand for a handshake, willing himself to keep his eyes firmly locked with Dean’s rather than letting them drift to his lips, to focus on the firm press of their hands rather than of yanking him over the cup holders into a heated kiss, to stay completely detached because this isn’t going anywhere and he has Baby to protect. “Goodbye, Dean. May you be happy.”

Briefly, Dean’s brows pinch together. “Thanks, Cas. May you be happy, too.”

He quirks a smile at the nickname. “My friends call me that.”

“Yeah? Is it okay if I call you that?”

Shyly, he says, “Yes.” Then, before his mind wanders any further, he gives a short wave and steps out of the truck and out of Dean’s life.

Well, almost.

Castiel doesn’t leave Sunday afternoon, as he told Dean he needed to do. Instead, he files a new flight plan and sticks around, despite it being so much easier and safer to beat it out of Sioux Falls as soon as possible. He’s not sure why, and he doesn’t have any sort of plan. He just knows it doesn’t feel right to leave yet. 

He replays the last few days spent in the Winchesters’ presence, specifically Dean’s presence. He remembers Salty, who found such joy in Baby. He thinks of Charlie, who said that if they were nice and didn’t seem like Baby-stealing assholes, he could show them pictures. _ Yes, I’ll stop by and show them pictures. _

He doesn’t think pictures would satisfy them, though. A flare of protectiveness surges through his chest. No, he decides, he can’t risk it. Baby is _ his_. 

_ But she hasn’t always been, Castiel. _

“Stop it,” he mutters in response to his own brain. 

_ They lived in her. She was a part of their lives for so long. _

_ He looked for her. _

_ It’s not his fault his father was an asshole and lost her in a card game. _

“It’s not my fault, either,” he grumbles. He resolves to get some sleep for his flight in the morning. 

It’s a long night.

Castiel wakes, having slept late and nearly missing his checkout. He packs his things into the Altima. At the top of the drive, he puts on his blinker to turn left toward the airport. 

When the traffic clears, he turns right toward Winchester Auto.

_ Goddamnit. _

He steps into the cool comfort of Winchester Auto’s waiting room. The woman—Christa, Dean had said—is there to greet him.

“Well, hello, Castiel! Didn’t think we’d see you here again, handsome!”

Surprised by the unexpected compliment, he flushes slightly. “Um, yes. Hello.”

“Here to see the boys?”

“If I may.”

“Anything for a foxy fellow like you.” She winks and calls them over the intercom. Castiel stares at his feet. He’s always had difficulty parsing out playful flirting from serious flirting, and he doesn’t want to give her the wrong idea. 

Sam and Dean step into the waiting area, wearing broad smiles. Dean, in particular, seems happy to see him. “Thought you left!” he exclaims with open hands.

_ Starting to wish I did_, he thinks, fearing the worst. “I...lied.”

Smiles dropping from the brothers’ faces, Dean asks, “What?”

Castiel rolls his shoulders, breathes deeply, and announces, “I have Baby.”

Stunned. Confused. Hurt. Angry. Every emotion explodes in Dean’s mind. “You have Baby?”

Cas bows his head. “I do.”

“Why didn’t you fucking tell us?” he yells.

“Dean—”

“No, Sam, he _ has _ her and he didn’t _ tell _ us!”

“Probably to avoid exactly what you’re doing right now!” Sam shouts. “Hear him out!”

Dean takes a breath, then two, then three. He pinches his nose. “Okay. Okay. So you have Baby. You gonna tell us the truth now?” He flashes angry eyes at the man he’d stupidly thought was such a nice guy.

“I have Baby. I’ve had her for some time now. I got her from a man who won her in a poker game. We started restoring her together, and after…” Cas sighs, his eyes going a little watery. He licks his lips and continues, “I finished the restoration alone. The trunk was the last thing I did. That’s when I found your time capsule.”

“A fucking poker game.”

“Yes.”

“That fucking asshole.” He turns to his brother. “It’s worse than him crashing her, you know that? It’s worse. He probably racked up a bunch of debt, or needed drinking money, and so he bet her. The only thing we had left.” Tears begin to well in his eyes, but he can’t show weakness now. He rubs his face against his arm as if he’s frustrated (which he is) and wipes them away. “All right, then, Cas,” he growls, “Where is she?”

“At my home. I flew here, remember?”

_ Oh, yeah. Rich boy. _ “Well, she’s part of the package, so we’ll be taking her back.”

The man before him stiffens, and his blue eyes, which looked so sorrowful a moment ago, go hard and cold. “No, you won’t.”

“Uh, yeah, we will.”

“Baby is _ mine._”

“Like hell.”

“Like hell are you taking her.”

“You could buy a hundred Babys.”

“No, I could buy a hundred Impalas. There’s only one Baby.”

_ Yeah, that’s the point, asshole. _ “What’s she to you? You don’t have the history we have with her. She’s not even worth that much money. Why do you give a shit?”

Those cold eyes flash with icy fire. “Do _ not _ presume we have no history, Dean, and do _ not _ presume I don’t care about her. Her value is not monetary. I have restored her with my own hands from a mass of dented metal and broken glass to what she is today—not for money, but for love. And _ do not _ presume that I am simply going to capitulate to your demands because you throw a fit to rival your six-year-old nephew’s. Your father may have been quick to cast her aside, but I am _ not_.”

They stare at each other, narrow-eyed, nostrils flaring with their rapid breaths. 

“Why did you come to tell us? Why not just keep us in the dark?” his brother asks gently from somewhere over his left shoulder.

Cas (nope, Castiel now, the fucker doesn’t deserve a nickname) breaks their staring contest to answer Sam. “I wanted you to know she’s in good hands. She’s restored, and she’s beautiful and healthy. She’s going to tour the country, just like she was made to do. I wanted to put your minds and hearts at rest. Show you pictures, too, if you wanted.”

“I’d love to see them, Castiel,” Sam says, like a kiss-up and a traitor. 

“Of course.” He pulls out his phone and pokes at it, then faces it toward them. 

Sam and Christa fuss over the photos, but Dean can’t look. Doesn’t want to look. Somebody else touched his Baby. _ He _ was supposed to restore her. _ He _was supposed to take her road-tripping. “I’ll stop at nothing to get her back. This isn’t over,” he growls.

Castiel meets his eyes and tips up his chin. He arches a brow. “Oh, it’s over,” he states, any trace of friendliness he had with Sam and Christa erased when he addresses him. 

Deeply flustered, Dean spits, “We’ll see about that.” He storms out of the waiting area, slamming the door behind him.

For days and days he texts and calls Castiel. He tries all kinds of approaches: yelling, demanding, pleading, threatening, begging, offering money, offering sex. Nothing works. Christa tells him he’s doing it all wrong. Eileen sympathizes. Sam tells him he needs to let it go.

And then, on a Monday afternoon two weeks later, Castiel is in his shop again. 

“I have a proposal for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *insert evil laugh here at the cliffhanger* 😘
> 
> Oh, and guess what? This chapter puts me at over one million words published on AO3! Woohoo! I will post something fun and special at some point to celebrate, but I have other things to do first (like finish this and my Poets timestamp, lol). Thank you so much for all of your support. Love to you all. ❤️❤️❤️
> 
> Next chapter, coming on Tuesday: The proposal.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the proposal.

_ Eat my contrails_, Castiel had thought when he left Sioux Falls. 

The _ audacity _ of that infuriating man! To _ demand _ Baby be given back to him! No. No way in hell. 

And then, _ then_, he harassed him over the phone. Yelling. Threatening with lawyers (as if he’d ever win). Pleading. That had gotten to him a little, but he didn’t show it. And then offering sex. Sex! Had the man no scruples at all? 

Not that it wasn’t tempting.

For nearly two weeks he put up with it. Sometimes it pissed him off, sometimes it annoyed him, and other times he was somewhat amused by it all. And then, occasionally, he felt really, really bad.

Charlie didn’t help.

_ “You feel bad about all of this, Cas.” _

_ “No, I don’t.” _

_ “Yes, you do.” _

_ “No, I don’t.” _

_ “_Yes_, you _ do_. I can tell. I know you well enough to know that you feel bad because, as much as you love that car, you know that he does, too.” _

_ “Yeah, but he wants to take her away!” _

_ “I know, but Cas, don’t you think you’d feel the same way if you lost her and someone else found her, years later?” _

_ “Whose side are you on?” _

_ “Yours, obviously. I’m just saying that you could make some concessions. Give him a little something.” _

_ “Such as?” _

_ “I don’t know. Take him for a ride.” _

_ “A ride.” _

_ “Yes, and don’t give me that holier-than-thou look. You liked this guy, didn’t you?” _

_ He wouldn’t look at her as he said, “I did. Past tense.” _

_ “You know, in your heart of hearts, that he’s probably just terribly upset right now.” _

_ Yes, of course he knew. He blew out a hard breath. “I guess.” _

_ “So give him something to help him put this to rest. He won’t get to have what he wants, but he can have something. Come on, Cas. You’re a nice guy.” _

So the “nice guy” finds himself, once again, at Winchester Auto, praying that nice guys won’t finish last (as so often happens).

“Hello, Christa,” he greets the now-familiar woman at the desk. She looks up in surprise.

“Hey, Castiel! Did _ not _think we’d see you again after all that hot man fighting last time.”

Castiel’s brow creases. “‘Hot man fighting’?”

“Sure. You should’ve seen the two of you. The attraction was _ ridiculous_.”

The door from the garage swinging open interrupts them. “Chris, would you call the owner of the Honda—” Dean stops upon seeing Castiel. He sneers. “What do you want?”

Hoping he won’t regret it, Castiel says, “I have a proposal for you.”

“Oh yeah? Have anything to do with giving me my Baby?”

“No,” he says flatly. “But if you’d like to ride in Baby again, meet me outside.” He strides out of the shop, not looking back.

Dean meets him at the end of the parking lot. He’s looking around, probably for Baby, who he left back at the hotel. Castiel didn’t dare bring her yet, not knowing what Dean Winchester might do. 

“What’s this about?” 

“I’m starting the road trip I mentioned to you. I’m going to start in this area.”

“And?”

“And I’m inviting you to go with me.”

Dean’s eyes narrow. “Inviting me to go with you.”

“Yes. For six weeks. You, me, and Baby.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch. I’m just giving you a chance to say goodbye to her.”

“Goodbye.”

“Yes. Dean, we both know I have legal rights to her. I have the title, fair and square, and no matter how much you want to say that she was ‘sold out from under you,’ the truth is that your father owned her and he sold her off, years ago. It was a shitty move, but it happened. I love Baby, and I’m not giving her up. I’m simply giving you the chance to spend some time with her. In my presence. With me driving.”

“You don’t trust me to drive her?”

“I might’ve until you started to have an attitude. Now I’m just being petty.”

The statement nearly brings a smile to Dean’s face. “Can’t be out of the garage for six weeks.”

“That’s not my issue. I simply made you an offer. The rest is up to you.”

Dean’s shoulders drop, and Castiel relaxes minutely. “How long do I have to decide?”

“I’ll hang around for a week.”

“All right,” Dean sighs. “Lemme see what I can do.”

“Fine. But do not take my generosity for naiveté. It will be very obvious to me if you attempt to manipulate the situation to convince me to give or sell her to you. I do not plan to give her up, so your efforts would be wasted.”

“Yeah, fine. I’ll let you know.”

Two days later, the text comes:

_ From Dean 8:38am: I’m in. _

Two days after that, he checks Baby’s trunk one last time and adds in his last-minute things. “Well, sweetheart, you’ll be seeing an old friend,” he murmurs, tracing her slender back fin. “Just remember who loves you the most.” He chuckles, thinking the whole thing an absurd sort of custody battle between feuding parents. “The divorce isn’t because of you,” he adds to amuse himself. He slides behind the steering wheel and smiles. Driving Baby never gets old. Hell, he just drove her nine hours from Bolingbrook to Sioux Falls the other day, and he loved every minute. 

_ “Baby tears it up, doesn’t she, Richie?” _

_ “Sure does, Salty.” _

_ “You keep treating her right, now, you hear me?” _

_ “Of course.” _

He breathes in deeply and slowly exhales as he thinks of his friend. They only ever rode an hour at a time—no long stretches, Salty couldn’t handle it with his health the way it was—but they were great hours. He promised him that he would always do what was best for Baby.

He doesn’t intend to break his promise.

Arriving at Winchester Auto bright and early, he’s surprised—but not really—to see Dean standing outside with Sam and Christa and another fellow he doesn’t know. He brings her to a stop right in front of them, turning off her rumbling engine. The door creaks as he opens it, and he’s pretty sure the noise brings Dean near tears.

His heart softens, just a little. _ Stop it_, he tells himself as he steps out and exchanges greetings with everyone except Dean, who says nothing to him. He remembers Charlie’s words—_he’s probably just terribly upset right now_—and lets go of his annoyance (which feels oddly like hurt) at the brush-off.

They swarm around Baby. The grizzled stranger is Bobby Singer. He should have expected him to come, he supposes. Christa takes pictures, Sam sits in the backseat and laughs about how he’s too tall for it now, and Bobby roves over it with appreciation and a “nice work, kid” thrown his way. It’s good to hear. Bobby reminds him of Salty a little bit. Dean is quiet, simply murmuring to himself as he strokes her like old lovers reunited.

When everyone’s posed for pictures and had their fill, Cas slides into the driver’s seat. Dean sits—reluctantly, it seems—in the passenger seat. 

And away they go. 

Dean’s dead. Or dreaming. Because there’s no way this can be real.

He’s in Baby. In _ Baby_.

She’s just as beautiful as he remembers—more so, really, because she isn’t filled with trash from McDonald’s and days of dirty clothes. She smells like leather and metal, just the way she should smell. She rides like a dream, she gets all the looks wherever she goes, and she _ purrs_.

And she’s not his. Or at least isn’t in his possession. _ Yet_.

Even though Castiel said not to try to convince him otherwise, he’s going to try anyway. He’ll see that Baby really belongs with Dean. He has to.

Dean needs Baby.

Baby needs Dean. 

He’ll see.

Days into their trip, Castiel still doesn’t see.

_ “I’m a professional mechanic and restoration specialist!” _

_ “No.” _

_ “I know all the ins and outs of her that you don’t!” _

_ “No.” _

_ “We have history!” _

_ “No.” _

_ “My father wasn’t in his right mind when he got rid of her!” _

_ “No.” _

_ “I need her.” _

_ “I’m sorry, but I need her too. No.” _

His frustration at Cas’ broken-record obstinance and his infuriating calm and patience have Dean rattled.

“He’s not getting it. Friggin’ lying asshole,” Dean groans to his brother over the phone. Castiel has taken off in Baby to do laundry and pick up a few things for dinner. That’s what he said, anyway. He’s been gone a while. Hopefully he hasn’t stranded his ass here in Wyoming.

“I think _ you’re _ not getting it, Dean. Yeah, he lied, but it’s because he’s attached to the car and was afraid of losing it. I don’t know how the hell you can be mad at him about that. He’s _ you._ You would’ve done the same damn thing.”

Dean grunts. “She’s ours.”

“No. _ He _owns the car.”

“Legally, yeah, I get that, but...she was _ home_.”

“Right. _ Was_. And not a great one, Dean. I don’t know why you’re so sentimental about it. The worst years of our lives were spent in that car. We had no friends, barely an education, barely a _ father_. You romanticize those years, Dean, but the truth is, we were isolated and homeless.”

“Baby was there for us, Sam.”

“Baby gave us shelter and a way from here to there, but Baby’s a _ car_. A car couldn’t give us what we needed. People had to do that for us. Mom wasn’t around. Dad tried, but he sucked at it. The best thing to happen to us was when Dad brought us to Bobby’s. He gave us what we really needed.”

Dean tries not to lose his patience. Sam doesn’t remember their mother, or any time when their father wasn’t a miserable mess. He doesn’t remember the good times with Mom, and Dad, and Baby.

“She’s part of our history, Sam.”

“Yeah, Dean. History. Past. Not future.”

“I’m getting her back. Whatever it takes.”

Sam’s voice softens. “Having Baby won’t bring Mom back, you know. Dad either, wherever he is. And it won’t give you what you really want.”

Dean pauses, a pang of loneliness twisting his gut. He wants a home. Someone to share his life with. “I want _ her_.”

Sam’s warm understanding turns into a glass of cold water in his face. “Well, guess what? Castiel does, too, and he’s clearly immune to your battering ram charm. He’s as stubborn as you are.”

He thinks about that, and about Christa’s insistence that he’s going about this the wrong way. “You’re right,” he says, a plan forming in his mind. Castiel is indeed immune to what he’s been doing...but maybe a lighter touch, the tickle of a feather rather than a hammer to the head... 

“Good. I’m glad you’re getting it,” Sam says. “Let go of the past and be happy in the present. Enjoy your trip. And then, maybe, you can start new when you get back.”

“Yeah,” Dean murmurs, though he’s not really paying attention. 

Castiel arrives, bags slung over his shoulder like he’s Santa Claus. Well, Dean figures, if he plays his cards right, Santa will give him what he wants. He just has to be good.

So, in his quest to be good, he decides to give his badgering a rest. Use a light touch. Let Castiel think he’s backed off and resigned himself to his fate. Let him relax.

Pretty soon, Baby will be his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, Dean’s plan...what do you think? Is it just as bad as Cas’ lie? Worse? Or does the end justify the means?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Dean begins his plan.

Since he’s taking a more relaxed approach to wooing Castiel to surrender Baby to him, Dean figures he should show some interest in what they’re doing. 

“So, where to today?” he asks as they leave the small diner where they had breakfast. 

“Idaho, I think,” Castiel says idly. “Good a place as any.”

Castiel doesn’t seem to have any particular destination in mind. They spent the past week in South Dakota and Wyoming, so Idaho makes sense, logically. 

“What’s there?”

Castiel settles into the driver’s seat before he answers, “Same as everywhere else.”

So far, they’ve driven a lot of back roads and seen a lot of junk. Castiel is taking an assload of pictures with a camera that probably cost more than Dean’s first car. They’ve seen some beautiful sights, but they’ve also seen some weird things that Dean would never think to take pictures of but made Castiel practically cream himself. Castiel is also looking for his “next project”—another car to restore. _ Baby was just a project, _ Dean thinks bitterly, _ yet he refuses to let her go._

Dean _ is _having fun looking at cars on this trip, though he’ll never admit it to his traveling companion. He loves seeing the possibilities in them, in taking something that looks hopeless and giving it what it needs to become its best, despite its rough origins or neglect in someone else’s hands. And while they admire his work, no one in his life really gets that part of it. Even Sam sees cars more as puzzles to solve rather than pieces of the past made whole in the present with a little TLC.

He’ll also never admit that Castiel seems to know what he’s doing when it comes to restoration. When he talks cars with other people, he knows the language. Dean’s tried to stump him with a few things, but he answers all of his questions with ease. And of course, there’s Baby, the only evidence Dean really needs. She’s a work of art. Damn him.

“Ah. More junk and more pictures. Sounds like a grand time.”

“You’d enjoy yourself more if you let yourself.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for the advice.”

“You’re quite welcome.”

“Meh.” He grabs Castiel’s atlas as Castiel starts Baby’s engine. “We should go to Twin Falls. Maybe some creepy things will happen there. That would be exciting.”

“Why would anything creepy happen there?”

“Twin Falls? You know, like that old TV show?”

“Twin Peaks, you mean?”

“Oh. Oh yeah.”

Castiel snorts, but it doesn’t sound mean, just...amused. “We can go if you’d like. Maybe something creepy will happen anyway.”

“Never know,” Dean argues, just to save face.

“You’re right. If we don’t take the chance, we’ll never know.”

When Dean glances at Castiel, Castiel is smiling at him. He hasn’t seen that smile since their time together touring Sioux Falls, when things were good between them. It lights a candle in Dean’s ice-encased heart. Damn it, he’s never been great at holding grudges. He folds his arms against the feeling. This is too important to let go. He’s not going to cave in less than a damn _ day _ because of a smile, for fuck’s sake. He has Baby to think about. “Okay, then, wise guy, let’s go.”

They leave Jackson behind and pass into Idaho. On their way to Twin Falls, they stop at Craters of the Moon, a national monument and preserve with caves and ancient volcanoes and lava flows. It’s kind of spooky and really cool, honestly, and Mr. National Geographic can’t get enough of it. 

They’re exploring a cave when Castiel asks, “Dean, may I take your picture?”

Dean frowns. “Why?”

“Christa has requested proof that you are ‘not dead’ and ‘engaging in physical activity in an outdoor setting.’” He says it with air quotes, as if these are her exact words. He wouldn’t be surprised if they were. They sound like her. 

“Did she text you?”

“Yes. We exchanged numbers before we left town. I think she wanted to keep tabs on you without contacting you herself. She asked me to take care of you.”

Dean shakes his head and rolls his eyes. Even years later, it still takes him by surprise that people care that much about him. His younger years, spent in “isolation,” Sam had called it, conditioned him to connect with and rely on very few—just himself, Baby, Dad, and Sam, though Dad was inconsistent and Sam was too young to rely on, really. He has so much more now, more than he ever did. He just wants that little bit more, that something to fill the hole or complete the circle or something. But having family and friends like Christa is good, too, and he doesn’t take that for granted. “You sure she didn’t mean ‘take care of me’?” He pretends to stab himself in the heart. 

“Well, I’m not certain. I suppose I would need to know Christa better to understand if her request was loving or homicidal.”

Dean chuckles. That dry humor of Castiel’s has made an appearance. Like his smile, it hasn’t come out since Sioux Falls. He quickly wipes his mouth and clears his throat. He’s supposed to be using a light touch and all, but his reaction felt a little too genuine and he can’t have that. _ Gotta think of what you really want here, Dean. _ “All right. Where do you want me for this picture she has to have?”

“How about here, under this arch? The light is just right.”

He does as he’s told, though with another roll of his eyes. Castiel snaps several before nodding. “Beautiful,” he mutters as he goes off in search of something else to photograph.

Dean frowns. “Well, you gonna show me?” he gripes.

Castiel stops. “Oh, yes. Sorry. You haven’t shown any interest in my photos before.”

Dean swallows a tiny bit of guilt. Castiel is right, of course. “Well, I’m in this one,” he jokes weakly. It does nothing to make him feel better, and it pulls a wan smile from Castiel, which also doesn’t make him feel better. 

Castiel dutifully shows him the pictures, and damn, he looks good. He’s standing at one of the openings of Indian Tunnel, framed by a bow of rock, and with the angle and the light, he’s like one of those guys he’d see on the cover of an outdoor magazine (_ha, I can be outdoorsy, Christa_). He takes the camera from Castiel’s hands and flicks through some of the others. They’re good. Great, in fact. He has a knack for this. “Multi-talented fucker,” he mutters lightly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel shifts. He clears his throat. “I’m going to apply effects to some of them, give them an eerie outer space look.”

“Huh. That’s cool. Guess we can say we saw something creepy after all.”

“And we’re not even in Twin Falls yet.”

Dean side-eyes Castiel, who’s looking at him with a soft stretch of his lips. He smiles back. Just an automatic reaction, of course.

Twin Falls, it turns out, is a beautiful area, and Castiel decides they’re going to take some time there rather than just pass through. For “sightseeing and relaxation,” apparently. 

“We didn’t even look at cars for you today,” Dean notes. 

“We have five more weeks to do that, plus I have all kinds of time after that. I thought it might be nice to just...be. To relax. To...I don’t know. When we went to dinner with your family, you said you haven’t vacationed much, so.” He shrugs. “I just thought you might like it, that’s all. This trip doesn’t have to be just about what I want to do, you know.”

Dean’s not sure what to say to that or why Castiel is being so nice after a week of mostly tense silence, though he concedes that his own attitude might have _ something _to do with it. 

For the next couple of nights, they’re going to camp at the Oregon Trail Campground. Castiel’s plan for his trip, he told Dean at the beginning of their journey, was to camp as often as possible, saving hotels for quick stays, soggy nights, or nights when he just didn’t feel like setting up the equipment. It surprised him to hear that plan. He expected Mr. Moneybags would want to live it up in hotel suites. Dean had scoffed at him. “You don’t know me,” Castiel said quietly in response at the time.

He thinks about that now, sitting in front of the campfire that Castiel made after eating rice and beans that Castiel also made. When he first met him, he thought he was nice. Easy to talk to. A good guy, one he wanted to spend a lot more time with. Then he found out that Castiel had Baby and wouldn’t give her up, and that told him everything there was to know about him—he was a selfish, lying asshole, obviously. Yes, he did come clean of his own free will, and yes, he didn’t have to, and yes, he did invite him on this trip to spend time with her and he didn’t have to do that either, but _ still_. Baby _ belongs _ to Dean. Castiel just needs to see that and hand her over.

He admits, though, that he wouldn’t give up Baby if he had her. Probably wouldn’t have said anything to anyone else who might’ve wanted her, either. But he’s not an asshole. He’s just...devoted and protective. 

Dean frowns. Maybe, _ perhaps_, he might not quite know _ all _there is to know about Castiel Novak.

His head hurts.

Castiel is silent, as he usually is these days unless spoken to or to discuss something related to the trip. He was way more open and talkative before this business with Baby started. Now he’s sort of...protective of himself, or something. Dean sighs. He knows it’s his fault, and it bothers him to see Castiel close himself off. He tells himself that it’s because he can’t alienate the guy if he wants his plan to work. 

His head _ really _ hurts.

“It’s weird, camping out. I haven’t been camping when I didn’t have to in a long time,” Dean shares, surprising even himself with the personal revelation from out of nowhere. Not that he hasn’t already revealed a lot to him—he has, and quite comfortably, just not since...everything. 

Castiel turns away from the fire, resting his deep blue eyes and considerable attention on Dean. “When you didn’t have to?” 

Dean shrugs and takes his turn staring into the fire that Castiel had been more than adept at starting. It’s hard to look at him when he’s giving him that sort of attention. “When we lived out of Baby, sometimes we had to. When we were in the middle of nowhere and there weren’t motels or soup kitchens around. I mean, we didn’t use a tent. We just slept in her. But the fires and canned food and stuff...all familiar.”

“Did you live in her in the winter as well?”

“Not as much. She’s a gas hog, for one thing, so you could only run her for so long. She doesn’t do well in the snow, either, so...sometimes we went south. Other times we stayed at people’s houses. Friends of my father’s or whatever. That sort of thing.”

“I can’t imagine.”

There’s no patronizing or piteous tone in his words, so Dean says, “Yeah.”

He has no idea why he told him that stuff. To make Castiel let his guard down, he figures. Or maybe just to hear him speak. 

“I suppose for some people, that kind of experience would make them want to avoid any reminders of that time at all costs. But for you...it makes you cherish Baby. Because she had become the only semblance of home you had. She took care of you.”

“Yeah.” He peers at Castiel, who simply nods and leaves it at that. 

It’s strange that Castiel understands better than his own brother. He wonders if this new information will make Castiel more inclined to offer him Baby. He also wonders why, despite his wish for it not to be so, the little candle in his heart is still lit. It’s making the ice around his heart start to melt, and it’s very inconvenient to his plan. 

Castiel doesn’t want to like Dean. 

The problem, in part, is that he started liking him before all of this unpleasantness. He saw the man’s kindness, his work ethic, his affection for his family and employees. He saw how grateful he was for everything he had, and how he didn’t seem to take anything for granted. Dean is still that man, despite his recent prickliness (which he knows, deep down, is just hurt and disappointment). It makes keeping him at arm’s length difficult. 

But Castiel loves Baby, and love motivates him to do what he needs to do.

So distance it is.

He doesn’t have to be rude, though, and he won’t be. They can have a pleasant time and even be friendly, if Dean will allow it, as long as Castiel maintains a strength of will. He can’t give in to sad stories or sparkling eyes, both of which have been out in full force to tear down his defenses and get him to relent. 

So far so good, on all counts.

Camping in Twin Falls was surprisingly nice. They did some exploring of Shoshone Falls and the Snake River Canyon Rim Trail. Castiel traveled with his family a lot as a child, both for business and pleasure, but he’s pretty certain Dean didn’t go on vacations. All of their traveling was the meandering of a grieving, directionless man, undertaken not for the joy of it, but because he didn’t know what else to do. He knows that Dean wants that experience, that travel in Baby just for the fun of it, to connect with her, with himself, with something greater than himself. Castiel did it, on a small scale, when he was seventeen. His mother had passed just a few months before. That summer, inspired by her and the road trips they shared in her classic car (he got his love of cars from her, not his father), he traveled around Illinois in his Continental, a car his mom had helped him restore before her death. Depending on himself and the wheels under him brought some peace. He can’t give Dean everything he wants, but he can offer him some time on the road, some touristy attractions, some natural beauty. Fun. New memories. It’s up to Dean if he takes the offer, but with the way Dean seemed to enjoy himself in Idaho, he’s hoping he will. 

After touring the area and looking for some vehicles, they left Idaho and are now in Arizona, having spent a few days traveling through Nevada first (but not Las Vegas, which they both, surprisingly, agreed on). Things seem to have thawed between them since Twin Falls. Dean is more relaxed, which has helped Castiel enjoy himself more than he was. At least now Dean acts like he doesn’t mind being on this road trip with him. His manipulations have become more subtle, too, so that has helped. His throat had become raw from saying “No” so much.

“How about this one?” Dean asks. 

Castiel peers at the ad in the community swap and sell guide. “1970 Nova. No thanks. It’s a four-door.”

“Picky.”

“Nobody wants those. You know that. Stop testing me.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Falcon?”

“Boring. I like a challenge.”

“_You’re _ a challenge.”

“Thank you.”

He gets a puckered smile from his travel partner. “Aha! Mustang. Everyone loves those.”

“I’ve done one already.”

“Good God, Mr. Perfect, _ fine_.”

Castiel frowns. “I’m not perfect. Far from it.”

Dean raises his eyes from the ads and leers at him with a smirk. “Sure you are. I mean, look at you. Good looks, money, great taste in cars, good with your hands…my kinda guy.”

“Those are all very shallow qualities.”

“I don’t need much.”

“I don’t believe you.”

The statement surprises them both, judging by Dean’s gaped mouth and his own suddenly sweating palms. He doesn’t take it back, though, and Dean doesn’t say a word. 

They don’t talk about it again until they’re wrapped in blankets that night, sitting on their camp chairs in front of Baby’s grill. 

“You were right,” Dean says out of nowhere.

“About?”

“The thing earlier. What I look for in someone. I don’t look for that shit. I mean, not really.”

“Good. I’m happy about that.”

“Being right?”

“Yes. You deserve more than a person who meets a small set of shallow qualities.”

Dean snorts. “Yeah. Like you think so.”

“I do, actually. I know we have our differences about Baby, but beyond that, I think you are a wonderful person.”

“Sure.”

“Why do you doubt that?”

“Because why would you?”

Castiel’s eyes drift toward the sky, looking for Ursa Minor and avoiding Dean’s scrutiny. “Because you are passionate. Loyal. You love deeply. You work hard, and you are determined and honest in the ways that matter. You don’t hide who you are or what you do. You’re transparent.”

In his periphery, Dean squirms. “Yeah. Okay. I’m a catch. Not a guy _ you’d _date, though.”

“Oh? And why not? Other than our conflict about Baby, which obviously precludes any chance at a romantic relationship.” He glances at Dean to make sure his joke was received as intended. He’s not scowling, at least, which is better than Castiel expected. Rather, his face is clouded over. He’s...pensive, maybe. It’s hard to tell in the dark. 

“Well, I’m not loaded, for one. No fancy parties or jetsetting with me. We don’t hang in the same circles.”

The statement is laughable. Castiel huffs and shakes his head. “Have you learned nothing about me yet? Yes, I have an expensive hobby. Yes, I live in a nice house. Yes, I have a few nice suits and an airplane. But I also sleep in tents and talk with people, quite happily, in all stations of life. I have money. I don't need to look for it. And I don’t look for people based on what they like to do or what circles they’re in. I look for the depth of a person, beyond the surface. You’ve only seen the surface of me, Dean, and only a small part, at that. Yet you judge me as if you know me. And frankly, I don’t think that my money has much, if anything, to do with the real issue here.”

Dean says nothing. Castiel knows he should leave it at that, but he’s certain Dean isn’t convinced of his own worth, and he believes that (along with the fact that Castiel has Baby, of course) is what’s really the issue. Castiel feels the urge to affirm Dean’s worthiness—even if it gives the man more ammunition against him in his quest for Baby—because he really does think he’s a nice person underneath it all and he does care, damn it. He’s been accused more than once of having too much heart. “So yes, you are someone I would date, if we didn’t have the Baby disagreement between us. Because of who you are. Your not-shallow qualities. You’re a good person, worthy of the affection of anyone you choose. ”

“Hmph.”

“I have no reason to lie to you, Dean.”

Dean meets his eyes, then looks away. They sit in silence for an eternity until he says, “Thanks. And, uh, hey, you too.”

“Me too what?”

“I’d, uh, I’d date you, too. You know, for your not-shallow qualities.”

He’d like to believe Dean, but he doesn’t, because Dean has one four-wheeled, black-and-chrome reason to lie to him. He’s not naïve. Still, he plays along with the manipulation. “Well, I suppose offering sex for Baby is something you wouldn’t want to offer to just anyone.”

Dean’s rich, throaty laugh fills the night sky. “Offer’s still open,” he says with a grin. 

“No.”

For the first time, Dean shrugs in response to his refusal. “I had to try, Cas.”

It’s foolish, but Dean using his nickname again, after only using his full name for the last thirteen days, makes Castiel’s heart leap. He tamps it down. _ It doesn’t mean anything. _“I admire your willingness to sacrifice yourself,” he comments drolly.

“Wouldn’t be _ that _much of a sacrifice,” Dean mumbles. “Could be worse.”

“How kind.”

“I’m trying!”

“Try harder.”

Dean’s laugh rings through the air once again, and Castiel can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face, nor the racing of his heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think of where our boys are so far? How’s Dean’s plan going? Was he sincere when he said he’d date Cas, or was that part of his “wooing”? Cas doesn’t seem to believe him. Is it only because he sees Dean’s game, or is it deeper? 
> 
> Want to check out where Dean and Cas spent their time?  
[Craters of the Moon](https://www.nps.gov/crmo/index.htm)   
[Shoshone Falls](https://www.tfid.org/309/Shoshone-Falls)  
[Snake River Canyon Rim Trail](https://visitidaho.org/things-to-do/rail-to-trail/snake-river-canyon-rim-trails/)
> 
> Next time: They’re halfway into their trip. Has Dean worn Cas down yet?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tensions mount.

They’ve made it three weeks and four days without murdering each other. In fact, Dean doesn’t even feel murderous toward Cas anymore.

He still wants Baby, and his plan hasn’t changed. But sometimes he just lets himself...enjoy himself.

Those are the best times, to be honest.

They’re doing a lot more sightseeing than Dean expected to do—sometimes the car-hunting and photo-taking even become secondary to it—but Dean likes it. Like he told Cas, he hasn’t really done vacations, except for that one time with his ex and her kid. Vacation with kids isn’t really a vacation, though. It’s just the same work somewhere else. They fought a lot, too, because he discovered that it was kind of hard to be together when they weren’t being social with others, having sex, or taking care of her son. They didn’t have much in common, as it turned out. This, though...it’s different. Nice.

Today, they’re going to cross into Texas. He’s always wanted to go back to Texas. He remembers driving through with his dad and brother. What he remembers most is how vast it felt, and how small he felt in comparison. It was desolate and lonely in spots. It matched his father’s mood. His too, sometimes. 

They stop at a car wash where you can do it yourself. Cas doesn’t trust the automatic car washes. “No _ machine _ is going to clean Baby,” he says. “She needs a gentle, personal touch.” Dean couldn’t agree more. 

As he’s come to discover, he agrees with Cas on a lot of things: How to treat Baby. The proper way to restore a vehicle. Politics. Spirituality. Work. Family. How to treat other people. How to treat yourself. Dean finds himself understanding him more. Liking him more.

Liking him wasn’t part of the plan. Liking him makes the plan a lot harder, in fact, and he was having a hard time with the plan to begin with. He’s supposed to be fighting for Baby, but too often he’s found himself laughing at Cas’ stupid jokes or admiring the way he looks in aviators when he’s driving her into the dawn of a fresh day. But it’s okay. He can like him, he tells himself, as long as he doesn’t forget his goal.

“Gonna help?” Cas asks. He takes his cleaning supplies out of the trunk. 

“Hell, yeah.” Dean hasn’t been able to do this for Baby yet. He can’t wait to get his hands all over her.

They rinse off the road grime, then set about sudsing her gently with a non-abrasive cleaner and sheepskin cloths. At the bottom, they switch cloths for the wheels and undercarriage. Cas gets into the nooks and crannies with old toothbrushes and even cotton swabs. They rinse her off and dry her thoroughly, not wanting to give rust a chance to settle in thanks to a soggy surface. On the inside, Cas hands Dean a can of compressed air, and they spray the floor to loosen the dirt before vacuuming it thoroughly. They wipe down every surface, then stand back to admire their work. “Okay,” Cas nods. “What do you think?”

His eyes skate over her surface. “Gorgeous.”

“Yes.” 

Dean turns to find Cas gazing at him. “What?”

“I, uh...well.” He takes a quick breath and releases it. “It seems wrong for you to say goodbye to her without driving her.”

A tingle of excitement shivers through his core. Does he really mean it? “You’d let me drive her?”

Cas shrugs. “If you want.”

Dean laughs, almost hysterically. “Dude. If I _ want_? Shit! Really?”

Her keys are held out for him to take. Tears collect in the corners of his eyes. He wipes them away, embarrassed yet overwhelmed by the sheer joy of the opportunity before him. He gets to drive Baby. Finally. After years of hoping, dreaming, searching. “Shit. Thank you. Thank you,” he whispers, throwing himself into Cas’ arms. He smells like automotive soap and a spicy body spray that Dean really likes. Cas’ arms wrap around him, hesitantly at first, but then with enthusiasm. His clothes are damp and his body is sticky with perspiration from his hyperfocus on Baby’s needs. Cas has turned that focus on Dean now—his arms hold him solidly but so gently, and his hands support his back and the nape of his neck carefully, his thumb stroking his hairline. He hasn’t been held like this in a long time. Dean holds on longer than necessary, because...well, because he’s grateful, that’s all.

Cas shifts, but doesn’t let go. “You scratch her and I’ll dump you on the road for the diamondbacks and the coyotes to fight over,” he murmurs in his ear.

Dean chuckles. He’s certain (now) that Cas wouldn’t do that, and he’d never dream of hurting Baby and they both know it. Since his arms and warm breath feel so good, though, he keeps the conversation going. “What if I get paint on her from another car when I open the door too hard?”

“Slow torture with the prickliest cactus I can find while you lie naked on the asphalt in the worst heat wave of the summer.”

“And if I ding her by parking too close to the wall in a parking garage?”

“Removal of an organ with a butter knife.”

“And if I allow a hyper kid with sticky hands to touch her paint?”

“I’ll force you to watch _ Barney _ or some equally inane show with a catchy, annoying song for forty-eight hours straight. With a bunch of three-year-olds.”

“Yikes. Okay, but what if I smoke a fat cigar in her and then stub it out on the leather seat?”

“Immediate death.” He pulls back and Dean has to fight himself not to chase him. “You’re making me regret my decision, Dean Winchester.”

Dean snickers before turning serious. “You know I wouldn’t do that shit. I love her as much as you do.”

Cas seems thrown by Dean’s statement. “Yes.” He grasps Dean’s hand and turns it over, then presses the keys into it. He smiles softly, something in those blue eyes that Dean can’t decipher. Cas steps away and gathers the cleaning supplies, leaving Dean wondering what the hell just happened between them in the last few minutes.

He’s still wondering when Cas snaps his fingers in his face. “Offer’s rescinded if you don’t get moving in the next thirty seconds.”

Dean gets moving.

With a gigantic grin on his face, he approaches the driver’s side and opens the door. The weight and squeal of it flick the switch in his storeroom of memories—his mom letting him unlock the door and climbing into the seat to sit next to her, the four of them going to visit his grandparents and getting ice cream after, sitting on his father’s lap and steering as they drove in circles around an empty lot in the middle of nowhere. His father, driving with a vacant, haunted look that told them not to ask him for anything when they stopped at the gas station. Taking the keys away from Dad when he was too wasted to drive. Sleeping feet-to-head next to Sammy in the backseat. Watching his father drive away when he brought them to Sioux Falls, never to be heard from again. 

“Dean?” A warm hand lands on his arm, the skin a peculiar mix of rough and soft from his work on cars and in a hoity-toity executive office.

“Sorry.” He shakes his head, then looks at Cas. He doesn’t remember getting in the car and closing the door. 

“It’s okay. Ready?” His tone is kind, patient. He’s...not an asshole. He gets that Dean loves Baby—maybe because he does, too. And maybe that’s what freaked Cas out earlier—Dean acknowledged it. It should freak Dean out, too, because he can’t possibly love her the way Dean does. If he did...nope. It isn’t possible.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

He starts her engine, and… “Fuck,” he murmurs. With a deep breath to collect himself against the swell of emotion in his chest, he puts her into gear and pulls out of the car wash bay. 

An hour later, he knows he can’t possibly be parted from Baby. The way her steering wheel glides under his hands, the way he feels in the cocoon of her rumbling, leather embrace, the way they talk to each other with subtle shifts and noises...it’s everything he ever wanted. He _ has _ to convince Cas. He’ll pay anything, do anything...he needs her. The plan is very much _ on_.

He doesn’t look at Cas as he thinks this. He doesn’t dare.

They don’t stop to shop for cars or to take photos. All through the wilds of Texas, where the sky is huge and the people are few, they drive, Dean at the wheel and Cas by his side, staring out the window or occasionally snapping a photo of him. “You’re the only stationary object, and I need the practice,” he explains. Dean doesn’t quite believe him, but isn’t sure what else to believe. 

Dean is sleepy and happy as he readies himself for bed that night. He’s hoping Cas will let him drive tomorrow, too, or at least the day after. Maybe they can take turns. He strips to his underwear—it’s hot as hell and they’re in serious need of a laundromat besides—then wanders out to say goodnight to Baby. It’s silly, he knows, but she’s the closest thing to being in love he’s been. He rounds the corner of his tent and stops.

Cas is already there. He’s patting her door and speaking softly—to her or himself, Dean’s not sure. 

He can’t deny that Cas treats her well. He’s seen it in the time they’ve been together. He’s good with all the big stuff, yeah, but it’s the little things—rubbing her door before he leaves her, parking far away from other cars so she won’t get dinged, opening her up when they’re on long, straight roads, letting her yowl to her heart’s content—that get to him.

Cas laughs at something, then pats her again and leans his head against her. 

And this is why he didn’t want to look at Cas earlier—there’s pain there he didn’t want to see, passion and love and loss he didn’t want to acknowledge. He didn’t want his resolve to crumble. He can’t give up on Baby. You don’t give up on the ones you love. 

He keeps watching Cas.

Castiel knew he shouldn’t have let Dean drive.

First of all, it was like God said, “Well, it’s Day 8 of Creation, what shall I do...Oh! This will be my finest, most perfect creation yet” and plopped Dean, spring-eyed and hard-bodied, into the Impala. 

Second, Dean drove her like he was born to do it. Perhaps it’s just his experience with cars in general, but he was so in tune with her that they operated as one. He feels that way when he drives Baby, but to see someone else drive her the same way...it’s unsettling.

Third, now he feels horrible. _ Horrible_. Dean’s stories—his relationship with his parents, with the car, the traveling, living out of her—have played out in Castiel’s mind all across Texas. They’re getting to him, strength of will or no.

“I’m driving today,” he barks after letting Dean drive for two days straight. Dean, to his amazement, doesn’t protest.

Baby feels so good under his palms. She’s the perfect partner—asking for what she needs, giving as much as she’s taking, responsive, noisily appreciative. Helping him fly. Feeding his independence. There for him, but happy and proud to be her badass self all on her own. Or with other people. Like Dean. Is she happier with Dean than him? He wouldn’t blame her, really. Dean is an incredible man. He’s strong, independent, proud, devoted. He’s personable, laughs easily, and argues his point with fire. Dean knows all the right buttons to push to make him feel good, to make him believe that he…

_ Jesus, Castiel, STOP. _

Over the next couple of days, he drives his girl out of Texas and into Arkansas. They stop frequently, and he takes down the location of a ‘57 Bel Air. It’s a gorgeous vehicle—and it would become even more beautiful with Castiel’s attention. Nice as it is, though, he just can’t get excited about it. It feels wrong, somehow, to buy it just now. The lady who owns it warns him that an old gal like this could be snatched away from him at any time. He tells her that if it is meant to be, it will be, and thanks her for her time. 

On their last night in Arkansas, they find a motel, since it’s raining and Castiel’s in a funk. He sits out on the covered walkway for a long time. Dean doesn’t come to see him.

When he finally feels like his brain will let him sleep, Castiel steps into the room. It’s dark except for the nightlight in the bathroom, and quiet except for the rattling of the air conditioner. He cleans up, then climbs on top of the one bed in the room, the only option they had available. 

“You can get under the covers, you know,” Dean says, an edge of something in his voice that Castiel can’t place. Concern, maybe, though he has no idea why Dean would be concerned about him.

“I’m fine,” he responds, clipped.

A pause. “Suit yourself.”

Castiel closes his eyes and lets his mind drift—or he tries to, but it chooses to run in circles like a dog chasing its tail instead. 

A gentle “What’s wrong, Cas?” disrupts the mind-circles that are turning his brain into a muddy field. He’s tired, so tired, and at this point, there’s so much in his head that he doesn’t know how to answer the question. 

“Nothing.”

Dean’s deep sigh pierces the air. “Yeah. Sure. Very convincing.” 

Silence follows. 

Castiel’s mind has resumed its tail-chasing when Dean asks, “What’s the story behind Baby, anyway?”

“What?”

“The story behind Baby.”

_ How much time do you have? _ Castiel thinks with an eye roll. There’s a lot to unpack. “I told you.”

“You told me you got her from a guy, and then you guys started restoring her but you ended up finishing by yourself.”

“Yes. That is the story.”

“There’s more to it than that.”

“What else do you care to know?”

“Why you finished by yourself. What happened between you and this guy. Why you’re alone.”

Castiel worries his lip. _ Why I’m alone? Why does Dean care about that? Or any of it? Is he really concerned about me? _ “The third isn’t related to the first two,” he offers cautiously.

“Okay, so...what’s the deal with the first two?”

“There isn’t much to say.”

Dean huffs. “Listen, I’m trying to understand what makes her different than the other cars you’ve restored. There’s ‘history,’ obviously, so I’m just trying to get an idea of what happened.”

_ Oh. _ Why had he thought Dean’s motivation would be any different than it always was? Irritated, Castiel spits, “Why? So you can use it against me, tell me that it’s not as important as what you had with Baby? Make my experiences and memories insignificant?” He grips his pillow tighter, curling into himself.

The bed shifts; Dean’s voice floats at him from above his shoulder. “I didn’t say that.”

“I saved you the trouble. I know the spiel, since it’s all I’ve heard for, what, four weeks? More, if you count the two weeks before we started this road trip. You’ve been quite clear as to your intentions.”

There’s silence above his shoulder, not even the sound of Dean’s breath in the space between them. “Well. Guess I understand why you’re alone,” Dean finally says.

“Fuck you.” 

“Fuck you, too.”

Castiel launches himself off the bed and paws around the floor for his shoes. “I’m going out.”

“What?” Dean sits up and turns on the bedside lamp. “Wait, what are you doing? It’s fucking pouring out there.”

“So?”

“So what if something happens?”

“I’m not stupid, Dean. I’m not going to put Baby into anything precarious. And I’m sure she’s survived much worse. You don’t have to worry about her.” 

“That’s not wh—” 

Dean’s words are cut off as Castiel lets the door slam behind him.

He’s taken a few solo drives while they’ve been on their trip—never far, usually just to the grocery store or to take a few more photos he didn’t get to take earlier in the day. He needs the alone time, and always has. It’s one of the reasons why he’s alone, as in without a partner. No one has really understood that about him. Well, Dean does. Maybe it’s because Dean needs that time, too. It’s something he’s figured out about him in the time they’ve known each other. Sometimes Castiel has left not because he needed the break, but because Dean did. Of course, the desire to be alone is pretty low on the list of reasons why he’s alone. He’s too independent, too boring, too introverted, too much work to get to know as deeply as he’d like to be known.

He sits and grips Baby’s wheel, but he doesn’t go anywhere. 

_ “Don’t be alone, Richie. That’s the biggest mistake I made, staying alone after my wife died. Made me crazy.” _

_ “You’re not crazy.” _

_ “I know what I am. You’re a good kid with a good heart. You just gotta find the fellow that sees that. Of course, that means you gotta stop hanging out with old men who aren’t gonna sell you their car.” _

He’d laughed pretty hard at that one. It became a joke between them and remained so, even long after Castiel had given up thinking he could buy it from the man. He knows that Salty knew, in the end, that Castiel didn’t stick around for the car, even if he teased him about it almost every time they saw each other.

He misses the old bastard.

He wishes he wasn’t alone.

A soft knock on the window shakes him from his brooding. It’s Dean, drenched and shivering, staring at him with pinched brows and a frown. Castiel wonders how long he’s been standing there. Dean lifts his hand in a soggy, undemanding wave. Castiel waves back, then unlocks the passenger door. 

They sit quietly, watching heavy drops streak down the glass.

“It wasn’t Baby I was worried about, Cas.”

His feathers, already ruffled by anger, ruffle for a whole other reason. “Oh.”

“Been worried about you a lot the last few days, actually.”

Dean _ was _ concerned about him...Dean was _ concerned _ about him...Dean was concerned about _ him_. “Oh.”

They sit in silence again, the beating of raindrops drowning out their breaths but not Castiel’s thoughts. He feels a tug on his sleeve. “Hey.” 

Castiel turns. 

“I’m sorry.” 

It’s the simplest sort of apology, nothing specific or verbose, but his sincerity and the feel of his hand still clinging to his sleeve lifts the heaviness from his chest anyway. He feels less lonely, somehow. “Me too.” 

They offer each other small, uncertain smiles. Castiel squeezes Baby’s steering wheel one more time, then drops his hands into his lap. 

“Let me tell you about Salty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh...using their words! (A little. Baby steps. 😂)
> 
> Next chapter: Landmark places, landmark decisions.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was chatting with some fellow writers last night, and we talked about how much we appreciate the people who read our work. So, just in case you ever wondered, we really appreciate you! ❤️
> 
> Now, on to the chapter. It’s chock full of feels of all kinds. 😘

Salty seemed like a hell of a guy.

Dean thinks he may have even met him once, long ago, when all of the people they met with their dad blended into two groups, either “nice” or “mean.” He doesn’t remember where he fell. What makes Dean suspect he met him was Cas’ description of his house. He remembers going to a shabby place that had “spy equipment”—he was fascinated by that shit—and a plethora of gas station signs. 

Cas told him he tried to buy Baby from him, but eventually gave up and helped him restore her instead, which was an awesome thing for him to do. Even more awesome was that he took him in when he got sick and cared for him until he died. He really loved the guy—like a grandfather or a friend, not like the lover Dean assumed he was when Cas had alluded to Baby’s previous owner in the past. Cas nearly choked on his own spit when Dean told him that. They had a good laugh about it.

That assumption led to talk about why Cas is alone, and really, the reasons guys gave him for not wanting to stick around were just...stupid. So he likes to spend his money on restoring cars and donating to charity. So what? It’s his money. Dean’s never understood why people think that having a partner with money means they deserve to be spoiled or whatever. If you want to be spoiled, work hard and spoil yourself. That’s Dean’s opinion. Not that your partner shouldn’t pay attention to you or do nice things for you, but the shit that Cas’ partners wanted—lavish vacations in far-flung places, beach houses, expensive gifts, fancy parties—they’re just not _ Cas,_ as he’s come to learn. Cas is about simple joys—bringing life to things, making people comfortable and safe, burgers and good coffee, camping, taking pictures, hanging out. His ideal date, he said, was to go somewhere with a great view and have a picnic. Dean was down with that. 

And the clinginess of some people! Jeez, the guy had been a CEO. It was an important job and it took a lot of time. When he wasn’t working, he said, they’d wanted him to spend all their waking hours together. He felt stifled, and of course he did. Cas loves people, but he needs time alone to decompress and re-energize. Anyone who bothers to get to know him knows that. Cas said he’d been accused of being selfish a few times. Dean didn’t see it that way; he saw it as striking a balance between self, work, and other people. He needs that, too. 

Those things, plus his independent, reserved, and quiet nature, were why partners gave up, and why he gave up on having anyone. He said it was easier to be alone than to try to be someone he wasn’t or to hope that someone would appreciate him for who he was, not what he could give them. He got tired of trying.

Dean knows that feeling all too well. He’s been alone, too, mostly. His past partners accused him of being too focused on his family, too focused on his work, too independent and opinionated and hot-headed and bad at using his words. All true, but it still hurt, and he got tired of trying, too. When he told Cas about it, Cas replied that they “didn’t really understand you” (and that it was “a damn shame”). 

It bothers Dean more and more these days. He knows he’s not perfect, and maybe he’s not worthy of the apple pie life or would even know what to do with it, but he’s never stopped wanting it, never wanted to give up finding his place, his home. It’s why finding Baby had been so important to him. Cas gets that. Cas gets _ him_, way more than anyone else ever has. 

_ Fuck. _ He wasn’t supposed to feel anything other than bitter contempt for the man, but he doesn’t anymore, hasn’t for a while. Instead, with every passing day, he feels...more. And more.

This doesn’t help his plan. But things don’t always go according to plan, Dean knows. And so, by week five, he decides that he needs to make some modifications to his plan if he’s going to get what he wants. 

They’re in good spirits when they land in Branson, Missouri. Things between them are warmer and friendlier than ever since they both apologized for their moodiness and hurtful words and opened up to each other during that rainy all-nighter in Arkansas, and Dean’s feeling pretty good about enacting his modified plan. 

Cas, who’s driving today, decides that they need to play the tourist angle to the hilt and stops at a store with more Western wear than the set of _ Bonanza_.

“I know they’re not practical, but when are you coming back here, really?” Cas asks, holding a hanger out toward Dean. “Besides, you’d look hot in chaps.” Dean blushes and Cas laughs. “Sorry. I think you’re attractive.”

He knows it’s not an empty compliment—Cas doesn’t give those—and it makes his mouth curl. It’s also a great segue into his plan. “Thanks. I think you are, too.”

Cas snorts and rolls his eyes. “Right.” He wanders away, leaving Dean frowning. 

Dean follows Cas resolutely, turning him as he tries on a hat that looks unfairly sexy on him. “I do,” he insists. 

“I’m sure. Here, try this on.” Cas takes the hat off his head and places it on Dean’s. He stands back and takes a photo with his phone. Smiling, he flicks the rim of it, knocking it slightly off-center, then heads toward the boots.

Staring after him, Dean feels more off-center than his hat. This isn’t going as he hoped. 

Cas ends up with a pair of boots, Dean buys a plaid shirt with pearlized buttons, and they wear their new duds out to dinner that night after a trip to the Ripley’s Believe It or Not! and the Titanic museums. It’s been a great day, but Dean still feels unnerved about their interaction at the clothing store, because Cas clearly doesn’t believe him. “I really do,” Dean blurts.

“Do what?”

“Find you attractive.”

Cas’ eyes scan his own side of the table, where several wadded-up napkins lay, along with a plate of sticky ribs, one of which he’s currently holding, two-handed, to his mouth. He raises his brows.

“I do!”

“Do you have a rib fetish?” Cas lifts his plate as if to hand it to Dean. “Would you like to be alone?” 

“Stop,” Dean laughs, gently refusing the plate. “I mean it.”

“Well...thank you.” 

With a smile and a shake of his head, Cas resumes eating. Dean watches him, unsure what else he can do to convince him. The plan won’t work if he can’t even get Cas to believe him.

They spend another day in Branson, because once they hear about Dolly Parton’s Stampede, they _ must _ go. It’s a flurry of food, horses, and music, and Dean can’t get enough. It’s the kind of thing he’d love to come back and do with Sam and Eileen, maybe Christa and Teddy, and with Cas, who’s smiling and flushed with alcohol and mirth, and who—

Who’s leaving with Baby in less than two weeks.

Right. 

_ You need to focus on the plan, dumbass. _

The next morning, Cas waits for him at the car while Dean grabs an extra-strong coffee from the Starbucks next to the hotel, needed after a night of tossing and turning. He finds him leaning against the passenger side, talking to his friend Charlie on video chat.

“...so damn humid and they predicted thunderstorms, so we didn’t get to go to Table Rock like we wanted to...Oh, here he is. Dean, meet Charlie.”

A pale, perky redhead smiles and waves at him. “Hey, Dean! Heard lots about you!”

“None of it good, probably,” he grins.

“Oh, it was, and then it wasn’t, and now it is again.” She laughs at Cas, who’s shaking his head.

“You’re terrible at keeping confidences,” Cas chides with a purse of his lips.

“It probably wasn’t a secret.” She glances at Dean, who gives a confirming nod and brief twist of his lips. Cas laughs softly, his face fond and affectionate toward his friend and toward Dean, too. It’s nice. Really nice. 

They sign off with Charlie, who says, “See you soon, Cas! Remember, you promised me you’d stop home before you take off again!” It reinforces the reality he couldn’t get out of his head last night._ He’s driving off with Baby into the sunset. _

“Here,” Cas says, handing him Baby’s keys. “Your turn.”

Acting on instinct or desperation or God-knows-what, Dean steps close—_very _ close—to take them. “Thanks,” he murmurs, letting their hands brush. 

Cas licks his lips and swallows. “You’re welcome.”

As Dean takes his next breath—to say something, to do something—Cas quirks a quick smile and moves to open the passenger door.

_ Damn it. _

Dean would’ve kissed him, he’s pretty sure, and Castiel almost let it happen.

_ No. I can’t. _

Instead they get into the car. “Where to?” Dean asks.

Castiel has been thinking about this for some time, and has no idea how Dean will react, nor whether it’s a good idea in the first place. “How about Lawrence?” he asks, because for as many good ideas as he has in all other areas of his life, he seems to have all the bad ones with Dean.

Surprised and thoughtful, Dean eventually says, “Okay.”

They don’t stop on the way, neither wanting to mar the moment with meaningless stops, it seems. Three hours later, they cross into the Lawrence city limits.

“Nice place,” Castiel says, looking around. 

They pass through the university campus, with its brick and stone buildings, less bustling since the fall semester hasn’t started yet. After consulting a map on his phone, Dean pulls onto a pretty suburban street. Kennedy Street. He parks in front of a tan split-level.

“This is the place,” Dean announces. “Or it was. Not the same house, obviously. Tree’s still in the backyard, though.”

“Do you want to get out? Get a better look?”

He says nothing, but gets out of the car, so Castiel follows. 

For a long time, Dean stares at the yard, at the house, down the street. Finally, he turns. “Walk with me?”

They stroll down the street, Castiel letting Dean lead. He points out a couple of things, but mostly looks lost. They reach the end of the road and turn right, then walk another couple of blocks until a brick building looms on their left. “I was going to go to school here,” he explains. “Mom used to take me to the playground. Sometimes we practiced crossing the street. She’d pretend she was the crossing guard. Never did go here, though.” 

Charlie never told him, though he knew Dean was young when it happened, so Castiel asks, “When did she pass?”

“I was almost five.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” Dean sighs. “Let’s head back, I guess.”

The walk back is subdued. “Two more places,” Dean says when they return to Baby.

The first place is the cemetery. Castiel offers to stay behind to give him privacy, but Dean asks him to come along, so he does. At Mary Winchester’s grave, Castiel clears a few weeds and an empty soda bottle that probably blew through on the wind today. Dean stands, glassy-eyed, staring at the stone that probably cost more than most of the ones around it—the last gift of a grieving husband, no doubt. His father did something similar for his mother.

Throat tightening with his own grief as well as Dean’s, Castiel impulsively takes his hand. To his surprise, Dean doesn’t pull back. Instead, he laces their fingers and lets his tears fall silently. He doesn’t let go until they get back to the car.

“Last stop,” he says, squeezing Castiel’s hand before he returns it. 

It’s a head shop. 

“Uh, they used to sell ice cream here.” 

Castiel stares at the tie-dyed curtains covering the windows, wondering what to do. He’s surprised to hear Dean snort, then burst into laughter. Castiel smiles and chuckles, not quite knowing if Dean’s laugh is of the amused or insane variety.

“Fuck,” Dean mutters, smile lingering on his face. “You know, they say you can’t go home again, and I never believed it, but you know what? It’s true.” He stares out the windshield. “I hardly remember anything here, and what I do remember is gone, mostly. What’s home, really? It ain’t this.”

“I find home is where and with whom or what you feel most like yourself,” Castiel offers. 

“Yeah.” Dean caresses the steering wheel, then gazes at Castiel with a helpless look before dropping his eyes to his lap. 

Castiel’s heart hurts for him. He rests his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I’m sorry this didn’t turn out the way you hoped.”

Dean shakes his head, meeting Castiel’s eyes once again. “You know what? I’m glad I came. It’s gonna help me let go. Home is...not this.” He squeezes Baby’s wheel in his hands as glances around once more. He takes a breath and releases it before meeting his eyes again. “Let’s get lunch. Where do you want to go?”

Castiel smiles, seeing the rise in Dean’s shoulders as the weight lifts off them. How long he must have carried the burden of this version of home around with him. It’s no wonder he wants Baby as much as he does. She is reliable, true, unchanging. “Driver’s choice.”

Dean’s eyes, so golden green, watch him for a moment. Castiel wonders whether he said something wrong when Dean smiles and pulls away from the curb, heading out of town. 

After Lawrence, Castiel lets Dean drive every day. It makes him so happy that the decision is easy. The conversation is easy, too. They talk about their moms, about cars, about childhood dreams and adulthood disappointments. They spend the next several days basking in sunshine and leather, windows down and the radio loud.

Three days before they’re due to arrive in Sioux Falls to end their trip, they land somewhere in Iowa. “Rain’s coming,” Dean comments, peeking at the sky. It’s already nearly 7:30, but the overcast sky is bringing the darkness of night even faster than usual.

“Yeah. Next few days, I heard, and pretty heavy. Hotel for the rest of the trip. For tonight, at least.”

“For sure. Don’t wanna wake up in a puddle. Sucks, though.” He frowns. “I like being outside.”

“You’ve become quite freckled.”

“Heh. Yeah. Been forever since I’ve had a tan.”

“You need to get out more.” He pokes Dean’s shoulder. “Hell of a way to end our road trip, though. Rain.”

“Yeah,” Dean says quietly. He takes a sharp right into a grocery store parking lot. “Wait here.”

Dean disappears into the store, returning fifteen minutes later with a bag and a six pack. He drives them to one of the nicer hotels they’ve been to, which surprises Castiel—they usually go for cheap, no-frills places. When they get to the room, Dean immediately jumps into the shower. Castiel follows afterward, averting his eyes as he always does to Dean’s damp, nearly naked form. It’s too hard to look at him that way and keep himself in check.

Fresh from the shower, Castiel is called to the covered balcony by Dean. “It’s not much of a view, but it’s a picnic,” he explains. 

Remembering what he told Dean about his ideal date, he blurts, “Is this…” before he stops himself. 

“It’s whatever you want it to be.” He steps closer as their eyes meet. 

_ It can’t be what I want it to be, _he thinks, but licks his lips at the thought of what he’d like it to be anyway.

Dean’s eyes flick to his lips, then back to his eyes. “Beer?” he asks.

Castiel takes it, grateful that he’ll have something to do besides stare at the beautiful man before him. 

They kick their feet onto the balcony railing, sipping on IPAs and munching on a cheese and cold cut platter as the first raindrops fall. Dean turns on the clock radio he grabbed from inside their room; a “Flashback” program plays, the music of 1987 featured tonight. The mood is a peculiar mix of comfortable, melancholy, and heated. They don’t speak, but Castiel steals glances at him every so often. Almost always, he’s looking back.

Later, the mood shifts to playful when a song that Castiel recognizes comes on the radio. He’s delighted that he’ll finally get the chance to break the strange tension and tease Dean properly for the man’s secret obsession with _ Dirty Dancing_, something he learned when they drank enough liquor by the fire a few nights ago to relax their inhibitions. It’s proper payback for the harassment he suffered when they crossed into Iowa and Dean jibed him repeatedly about taking a detour to the Antique Archaeology store to get a glimpse of his TV crush, Mike Wolfe, one of the guys from _ American Pickers _ (“Ooh, want him to make an offer on _ you_, Cas?”). 

“_Now I’ve...had...the time of my life…_” Cas croons.

“Noooooo…”

“_No I never felt like this before…_”

“Stop! This is torture!”

“_Yes I swear, it’s the truth…_”

“Come on! I’m turning this off.”

“_And I owe it all to you._” 

“I hate you.”

Castiel cackles. “Come on, be the Jennifer Warnes to my Bill Medley.” He winks, snapping his fingers and shimmying his shoulders.

“I really hate you,” Dean pouts. 

Toward the end of the song, they’re belting out the lyrics and have added sweeping arm movements. Dean’s a great singer, and Castiel is a bit disappointed that he didn’t find that out until now.

“You suck,” Dean grumbles with a smile when the song is over.

“It’s been said. So, do you love that movie for Patrick Swayze, or because the woman’s name is Baby?”

“You know, I never thought about it. Probably both.”

They dissolve into giggles. “Heaven Is a Place on Earth” begins, and the buoyant mood continues as they bebop to the catchy beat and sing loudly, likely annoying their neighbors. Castiel couldn’t care less. He’s going to enjoy what time he has left with Dean. 

Dean makes himself useful (and scarce) when “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now” comes on. “I hate Starship,” he grumbles as he picks up the trash from their picnic. “All variations. Starship, Jefferson Starship, Jefferson Airplane…”

His complaining makes Castiel sing louder.

When the song finishes, Castiel figures that’s a good place to leave the evening. He’s about to turn off the radio when Dean comes back out. “Dance with me,” he murmurs, taking his hand. 

The song has changed to “Always,” the most romantic ballad to come out of 1987. _ Fuck.__ You know what this is. It’s a mistake, it’s a bad, bad idea... _

“Okay,” he whispers in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean visited the [Ripley’s Believe It or Not!](https://www.ripleys.com/branson/) and the [Titanic](https://titanicbranson.com/) museums, as well as [Dolly Parton’s Stampede](https://dpstampede.com/branson), which is a real thing and sounds like a lot of chaotic fun. 
> 
> If you’d like to listen to some of the greatest hits of 1987:  
[(I’ve Had) the Time of My Life](https://youtu.be/4BQLE_RrTSU) by Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes  
[Heaven Is a Place on Earth](https://youtu.be/NOGEyBeoBGM) by Belinda Carlisle  
[Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now](https://youtu.be/3wxyN3z9PL4) by Starship  
[Always](https://youtu.be/rxXPV144DOc%22) by Atlantic Starr
> 
> Fun fact: I also used a song called “Always” for Dean and Cas in my very first fanfic, Deja Vu, but it was the Panic! at the Disco one. I guess these guys and “always” just go together. :)
> 
> Next chapter: Oh my my...


	10. Chapter 10

_ Ooh, you’re like the sun, chasing all of the rain away... _

He pulls Cas closer as they dance to the ‘80s ballad. Cas really has brought sunshine to his days. He never had to—he could’ve gone back to Illinois, could’ve stayed away, and Dean never would have known. He would’ve continued to pine for something he’d looked for most of his life. And soon he’ll lose it all when Cas drives away in Baby. 

When the singers talk about making a family, Dean rolls it over in his mind. He’s nearly forty and never wanted children, but he’s never given up hope that he’d find some semblance of family just for him. He thought it would be Baby, that he would find her and restore her and she would fill that hole in his life. But it won’t be her. It can’t be her.

Dean gulps and sinks into Cas’ neck, breathing him in. Cas’ response is a sharp inhalation, but he doesn’t pull away. In fact, his arms tighten, keeping him locked there. Against his face, he feels the flutter of Cas’ neck. A swallow, probably. Is...is he affecting Cas? He knows Cas finds him attractive, and he’s been sweet and friendly, though a little guarded, too, despite how much he’s opened up over the last six weeks. Dean can hardly blame him. But now...does he want? Does he need? Does he feel? Will Cas let him in? Is this Dean’s chance to finally...

“Cas,” he whispers against his skin. He follows it up with a kiss on his pulse point. “Cas…”

A tiny mewl answers him. And like a spark plug sets off the air/fuel mixture in the combustion chamber, it sets Dean afire.

He plants wet, open-mouthed kisses to his neck, covering Cas’ scent with his own. Cas groans and rolls his head so that Dean has more access. Dean buries his face in the spot under his ear. In response, Cas grips his hair, almost painfully. He yanks his head back, forcing Dean to meet his lust-blown eyes. 

“Inside,” Cas gasps, and _ hell yes, he’s into it._

As soon as the balcony door slides shut behind them, Dean is pushing him against it, claiming his mouth in a hard, desperate kiss. The _ need _for this thing he’s pined for claws at Dean. It’s an itch than can only be satisfied by Cas, the man who took him on a journey, who has a piece of his past, who came to him because of a 10-year-old’s hopeful yet despairing last-ditch effort to be found and have a happy ending. 

Maybe he’ll get that happy ending after all.

Cas parts from him to breathe, giving Dean the opportunity to work on his neck again, then to tug aside the worn collar of his loose t-shirt and suckle at his sun-browned shoulder. His skin is delicious, a heady combination of soap and rain-damp heat. Fingers rake down his back as Cas presses his face against Dean’s, his teeth dragging across his jaw. Dean’s knees begin to give, weakened by a simple touch. It’s been so long, but it’s more than that. It’s being so damn close to what he wants that makes him weak. 

Dean stands back and pulls off his shirt. Cas’ eyes travel down his body hungrily, and Dean is buoyed by it. “Off,” he growls, clutching Cas’ shirt. Cas whips it over his head one-handed. His eyes trace the same sort of trail Cas’ did, and oh, what a journey it is. He’s always thought Cas was attractive, even when he was furious at him, but now, with his chest heaving and his skin begging to be touched... Dean lunges at him, pressing their chests together as their tongues grapple once again. They seem to have the same idea as their hands fly to each other’s ribs; their moans bounce around the room as fingertips bruise their skin.

Cas shoves him back. Dean almost thinks he’s angry, until he sees that the intensity in his eyes is of a different sort entirely. He hooks his shorts with his thumbs and pushes them down his legs, never diverting his gaze from Dean’s. Dean copies his movements like a game of Simon Says, following with his boxers when Cas does the same. Dean swallows. Cas’ jaw twitches. Then, without warning, Cas is on him again, attacking with mouth and hands in a flurry that Dean cannot do anything about except to let it happen—which he does, happily, because _ Cas wants him_, and that can only mean good things for Dean and his plan. His knees hit the bed closest to the balcony doors, and he lets himself fall. Cas falls with him, pinning his hands to his sides as he ravishes him with teeth and lips all over his face, chest, and arms before sinking his mouth onto his cock. Dean whimpers and moans and cries out when a bite is a little too sharp or the suction is a little too good. _ Everything _feels so good. He knows he won’t last. He’s barely touched Cas, though, and that won’t do. “Cas...Cas, please…” he begs, straining against his hands. “Cas...Cas, shit, wait, please, let me...”

As if snapped out of a daze, Cas stops and hovers above him, knees around his hips, hands removed from his wrists and now on either side of his chest. He’s panting, sweating, and wearing a questioning expression. “What? Are you all right? Did I do something wrong? Do you want to stop?”

Dean shakes his head. “No, no. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just need to do for you, too, you know? What do you want? I’ll give you anything you want.”

“I don’t need anyth—”

“Please.” Dean senses him retreating and coaxes him down into a gentle kiss. “Please, Castiel. I want to.”

Cas visibly softens, the lines on his face smoothing out and his breath evening until it’s almost unnoticeable. With a slow blink, he presses his lips together, then looks at Dean with wide, undefended eyes. “I just want you,” he says in a whisper.

_ There he is. _ Dean smiles. “You got me.”

He doesn’t quite catch Cas’ expression, but his kiss is soft and undemanding when he drops his lips to the bolt of Dean’s jaw. They roll on their sides so that their hands can roam with equal opportunity for them both. The demand of earlier is gone, replaced with a tenderness Dean has never felt from anyone, not like this. Cas _ is _ affected by what they’re doing. He wonders if it’ll be enough, if when this is over maybe Cas will give him—

“Dean? Can I…” He gestures to Dean’s cock. “Is it okay if I touch you again?”

“Only if I can do it for you.” 

“Yes.” Cas closes his eyes and lunges for his mouth, passion leaking into the tenderness of a moment ago. Dean responds with vigor, holding his face with one hand while snaking his other around Cas’ cock. It’s long and thick, and it feels good in his hand. _ It’s not enough, though, _ Dean thinks in a sudden panic. _ I need to do more for him. _

“Do you want to fuck me, Cas?”

It started with that damn dance. 

Or really, it started _ way _ before that. But everything led to that dance, which led to everything else. 

Castiel tried to resist. But Dean held him so close, and it felt so right, and then he nuzzled his neck, and _ oh_, he’s always been a sucker for that. Then the kisses started. Still, he tried. When he ordered him inside, he was going to put an end to it, but then Dean slammed him against the door, and...well, he’s only human. 

A terrible human, but human nonetheless. 

To his credit, he attempts to convince himself, he _ did _ try one more time, shoving him away. But he couldn’t. He just _ couldn’t_. 

So instead, he went full bore, taking off the gloves—or, rather, his clothes—and taking over the interaction.

He thought that, maybe, if he only brought Dean pleasure, it wouldn’t make it so bad. But then Dean insisted on pleasuring him, and when he kissed him and said “Please, Castiel,” his full name so beautiful in his mouth, he cracked.

He tells himself that Dean’s a big boy. He knows what he’s doing, and there’s no coercion. But really, if Castiel were completely honest with him, this might not be happening at all. That’s what makes him a terrible human.

But he’s terribly, terribly attracted to Dean. 

Now, the words ring like church bells in Castiel’s ears, loud and lingering. _ Fuck him? _ And though he feels dirty accepting, he does, because the truth is that he _ does _ want to fuck him. Or something like that.

Dean has a condom and lube that he retrieves easily. Castiel winces. He shouldn’t be disappointed that Dean is prepared for this, but he is. That disappointment doesn’t stop him, however. 

He really is a terrible person.

Castiel coats his fingers with lube and gently inserts one into Dean. His tight heat is incredible, so welcome after all this time. He loses himself in the sensation under his fingers and of Dean’s pleasured cries. Kissing his neck, biting his nipples, sucking his cock, Castiel pretends what he needs to pretend in order to ease his mind.

When Dean is fully prepped, Castiel pats his hip to prompt him to turn onto his stomach. 

“Do we have to? I really want to see you. Please let me see you.”

_ Well, fuck. _How does he say no to that? If he does, he sounds like an asshole. Maybe it’s an extra layer of torture, to make him look him in his eyes.

He wants to, though. He wants to look at Dean.

So Castiel nods and rolls on the condom. After slicking himself, he props Dean’s legs up, then slides into him carefully. Dean’s mouth hangs open, and he tightens around Castiel—ass, legs, arms—as he tugs him down for a kiss. It _ is _ torture—a marvelous, gorgeous torture. 

“Cas,” Dean murmurs against his lips. “Go ahead, angel.”

_ That’s _ dirty pool, calling him an affectionate nickname, but it’s something he’s wanted so badly that he pretends. He seals his mouth on Dean’s, keeping them locked together as he pumps inside him, stroking his cock at the same time. Dean makes such beautiful noises. He’d like to swallow every one of his sounds until he peaks, but he needs a deeper breath than his nose, smashed into Dean, can provide. Castiel backs off to breathe, and it’s then that Dean captures his face and forces him to look into his eyes. They’re soft and nearly gold in the yellow light of the room. He takes the breath he needs, but it’s not enough, will never be enough as long as they’re tangled together. 

When he can’t bear the soul gazing anymore, he dives into Dean’s mouth again. He continues his relentless pumping of his plump cock with one hand, lube and precome slicking the way, and grips his shoulder with the other. Dean is like the finest car—hard body, grumbling purr, and an absolute pleasure to ride in. He keeps this ridiculous analogy in mind instead of all of the poetry that wants to finagle its way in. 

“Are you close?” Dean asks. Dean clearly is, his body heaving like an ocean swell. Castiel is unconcerned about his own orgasm, so he focuses his energy on blowing Dean’s mind instead. With a slight adjustment, he’s nailing Dean’s prostate, making the man shout and dig his heels into his back. Shortly, Dean’s mind and load are both blown. 

“Inside me,” Dean insists when Castiel tries to pull out in one final, pathetic effort to make this less dirty and wrong than it is. “Come on, angel. Please.”

Castiel shudders, then nods. Dean draws their faces together as Castiel thrusts, kissing his lips, his nose, his jaw. It hurts, but it hurts so good that he allows himself one vulnerable kiss, exposing his soul to Dean’s mouth, before he breaks away. He comes with a gasp and a whimper. 

As he descends, Dean strokes his hair and watches him in a way that makes his heart ache. He wants to cry, something he rarely does and would seem out of place in this circumstance, anyway. Instead, he drops his head and pants into Dean’s neck. “We should clean up,” he whispers eventually.

“Good idea,” Dean agrees, stretching his legs when Castiel rises from the bed. 

He lets Dean go first, and isn’t surprised when he comes out of the bathroom to find Dean in the other bed. “Fresh sheets,” he explains with a tired, crooked smile. “Come on.”

“Come on?” Castiel repeats as Dean calls him over with a sweep of his arm.

“Well, yeah. This is a package deal, man. Picnic, sex, cuddling. Come on.”

_ Package deal. _Castiel puts on a smile and slides into the bed, turning off the light as he does so. Dean wraps his arms around him from behind and pulls him close, planting a soft kiss to the nape of his neck. It’s probably the worst torture of all.

He lies in his arms for a long, long time. Later, hours after Dean’s breaths have grown deep and his arms have loosened around him, Castiel carefully rolls out of bed. He gathers his things silently, feeling around in the dark, and carries everything to the bathroom, where he can close the door and use the flashlight on his phone. When he’s finished, he opens the door slowly. Dean is still sleeping soundly. He doesn’t dare kiss him—he doesn’t want to wake him, and he’s taken too much advantage already—so, with one last, long look, he opens the door to the hall and slips through, tucking an envelope near the door for Dean to find before leaving him behind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to loudly express your opinion of the goings-on in this chapter to your author. 😘
> 
> Next chapter: The envelope.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the envelope.

The rain is beating down like a son of a bitch, and Dean loves it.

Not to drive in, or walk through, or be on vacation with. But he loves lazing in bed when it’s raining. It darkens the room, and the sound is soothing. Nature’s white noise machine. 

He feels a little sore this morning. He frowns until he remembers why, and then he smiles. “Hey, Cas,” Dean rumbles, reaching out for him. No response. He opens his eyes. Cas isn’t in the bed.

The frown returns as he sits up, his eyes searching the darkened room. “Cas?” Dean flings the covers off. He catches his foot on the sheet and stumbles out of bed. 

The room is only so big, so after he’s checked the bathroom, the balcony, and the closet (hey, leave no stone unturned), he finds his phone and checks it for messages, assuming he went to get them breakfast. No messages. Dean shrugs. Maybe he figured he’d be right back and didn’t bother. He takes a quick shower and dresses, then comes out to find that Cas is still missing. He texts him, and after a few minutes with no response, he calls. It goes directly to voicemail. _ Okay, then_. 

Dean turns on more lights so he can see better, and it’s then that he notices an envelope on the floor by the door. When he picks it up, he sees his name, written in Cas’ handwriting. “Aww, passin’ me notes, Cas? Most people text now, old man,” he murmurs, snickering to himself at his joke. Cas isn’t most people. It’s not even the first time he leaves him a note instead of texting. “Could’ve left it in a more obvious place, though, dude.” He frowns at the thickness of it—it seems like a lot just to tell him he’s going out for coffee—then tears it open with a finger and unfolds the sheets inside, recognizing the page facing him from the notebook Cas uses as a travel journal. He reads:

_ Dear Dean, _

_ I love Baby. This is no surprise to you, I’m sure. In fact, it’s been a bone of contention between us. But I do. _

_ I found her, broken but strong. She just needed some love and attention, someone to believe in her and help her be her best. Of course, she came with an ornery son of a gun who loved her, too. He just couldn’t give her what she needed without some help. _

_ I offered that help. It was selfish on my part, honestly. I hoped that, over time, I would convince Salty to sell her to me. But once I spent time with him and got to know him, I discovered that I really didn’t want him to anymore. I came to value my relationship with him, so I cut the strings to the help I offered. I said goodbye to the relationship I hoped to have with her so I could give him what he wanted most. _

_ I loved Baby. But I loved him more. _

_ I admit that most things have come very easily to me—they do when you’re healthy and have money and a little talent—but relationships, the ones that move beyond the surface, beyond simple acquaintance or quid pro quo, have always been harder. I tend to be quiet, reserved, and solitary, and if I’m going to bother with a relationship of any sort, I want it to be one of depth and meaning, built over time and experience. Those take time, and most people don’t bother to put much effort in me if they see no immediate reward. They don’t really understand what’s under my hood, so to speak, and they give up before they even get their hands dirty. So finding those with whom I truly connect, beyond the surface, is rare, and the ones I have found this connection with are treasures to me. _

_ I suppose I thought Baby was one of those treasures. I felt connected to her, deeply, and I thought I had everything I wanted in her. What I’ve come to realize, though, is that I feel connected to her not because of who/what she is—she is, in reality, just a car—but because I felt (and still feel) deeply connected with my mother, and with Salty, and now with you. With all our talks, all our travels, everything we share in common—well, you got under my hood. And because you did, it’s become clear to me that I will never find what I truly want in Baby. She is important and a huge part of my life, but no matter how much I love her, she can never provide what I seek. She is not the treasure. My mother was. Salty was. You are. _

_ I told Salty over our many talks that I would always do what’s best for Baby, and it’s a promise I have kept—because I love her, yes, but mostly because I loved him. Love has always motivated me to do what I need to do. And so it is again as I let go and give you what you want the most. _

_ I love Baby. But I love you more. So I’m giving Baby to you. _

Dean’s breath catches as he registers what he just read. He reads the words again, hardly believing his eyes. 

_ But I love you more. _

_ I love you more. _

_ I love you. _

“Holy shit,” Dean rasps, raking a hand through his hair. He sits, shaky and smiling...and confused. Does he _ love him _ love him? Where is he, then? He looks around, as if Cas is going to pop out of hiding and say, “Surprise! I love you!” But he doesn’t. 

Dean’s eyes scan the rest of the page. There’s some bullshit about a bill of sale and Baby’s title, but he doesn’t care about any of that. “Is that it? What the hell?” he says aloud when he gets to the bottom of the page. He finds a second page behind the paperwork for the car and sighs in relief.

_ You might be surprised that I fell in love with you, given our rough start and your self-doubt, but you shouldn’t be. You’re an incredible person, and you have all the not-shallow qualities I’ve always wanted in a partner—passion, strength of character, independence, kindness, humor. Not to mention good looks, great taste in cars, and being good with your hands, ha ha. (If you don’t remember that conversation, this comment is going to seem very out of place.) _

Dean smiles—because he remembers, of course, and because Cas is _ in love _ with him. It’s even better than he hoped for when he modified his plan. 

_ Just as loving you was complicated but ultimately all I wanted, so was deciding to give Baby to you. I made the decision some time ago (probably before I even realized I did), and I made it not because you had history with her, or because you’re a mechanic, or because any of your methods at getting her back were effective (they weren’t, sorry). It was simply because I saw how much you loved her. That made all the difference, as love often does. So our trip became my goodbye tour instead of yours. I’ve said my farewells to her, and I don’t regret my decision. (I admit I had my moments when I thought about ditching the whole plan and running away with her, but that was usually when you were pissing me off, so I didn’t act on it. Lucky you.) _

Dean laughs aloud, then pauses. _Wait. Farewells?_ _He’s not…?_ With mounting concern, he continues to read:

_ I do want to apologize for last night. I feel horrible that I let you have sex with me when I’d already decided to give her to you. You really weren’t kidding when you said you’d stop at nothing to get her. I know I should have stopped you, but the truth is that I wanted to share that intimacy with you, just once. It was a selfish thing for me to do. I know you care for me (probably in spite of yourself, but that’s who you are), and even that there’s mutual physical attraction (you were insistent about it back in Branson), so maybe it wasn’t “that much of a sacrifice” (you need to work on your compliments, ha ha). But I also know that you don’t feel as I do and that our hopes and motivations last night were different. I suppose, in the end, you got Baby either way, so I hope that’s some consolation. _

Dean’s gut plummets as he processes the words. “Oh, Cas, no, no, no,” he whispers.

_ I wish I could’ve said goodbye to you in person. I would’ve loved to see your smile when I handed the keys over for good. But I just couldn’t. After everything we’ve shared, knowing what you mean to me, to spend those last few days with you and then look in your eyes and casually part ways in Sioux Falls as if all of this hasn’t changed me fundamentally...I couldn’t. Please know that me leaving this way is _ _ not _ _ your fault. This is all me, all my responsibility. I hope it doesn’t bring up any bad memories for you. I’m probably blowing this out of proportion. I’m sure the impact of me leaving isn’t the same for you as it is for me. Either way, I just wanted you to know, and if it does have any sort of negative impact, I'm truly sorry. _

_ I had the time of my life with you (and I never felt this way before, la la la…that was meant to be a joke, but isn’t it interesting how jokes have truth in them?), and I will never forget the time we spent together on our road trip. I left all of the camping gear in her trunk so that you can have more road trips with her, and maybe bring someone special along, someone that you treasure. Don’t let yourself be alone. You are worthy of love and companionship. _

_ “Go big or go home,” Salty used to say to me. I went big. Now I’m going home, at least for a little while. Falling in love and all the heartbreak that’s gone with it have taken their toll. Eventually, though, I’ll get back on the road (alone, and with a car I love less, but definitely not with an Altima—they are not worthy of such an epic undertaking). Maybe I’ll see you out there. _

_ I’m rambling, so I’ll end this with a thank you for everything—for being you, and for seeing me. You saw me more than anyone has, and for that, and everything that you are, you will always be one of my treasures. I’m glad I could give you what you wanted the most. May you be happy, Dean. _

_ Love, _

_ Cas _

Dean clutches the letter, staring dumbly at the room he only now notices is devoid of Cas’ things. He strides to the balcony doors and rips open the curtains. It’s still raining, and parked in a space with no other cars around her is Baby. He hadn’t noticed her when he checked for Cas out here earlier. 

“You stupid fuck!” he berates himself aloud. “You had to be an asshole about this”—he waves carelessly toward Baby—“and now he’s gone!” Roughly, he yanks the curtains shut again, then sits on the bed they made love in just a few hours before and sobs. 

After a few minutes, Dean dries his eyes and steadies his breathing, moving from anguish to determination. “You know what? Fuck him. _ Fuck him _ if he thinks I’m lettin’ this go.” He swipes his phone from his pocket and texts Cas several times in a row, hoping he’ll answer. He calls, but it goes directly to voicemail again. Desperate, he calls the only person he can think of who might be able to help him.

It’s a maze of voice menus, mild threats, and outright lies before he reaches the executive offices of Angelus Airlines. 

“Dean?” a woman’s voice greets him.

“Charlie?”

“Yeah. They said there was an emergency. What the hell’s going on? Is Cas okay? What—”

“I don’t know. He left, but I _ really _ need to talk to him, right now. Can you call him? He’s not answering me.”

“You said he left? He does that sometimes, just for a break—”

“No, I mean…” Dean explains the entire story to Charlie, including his modified plan, which backfired epically because he didn’t _ use his fucking words_.

“Oh, oh no, oh wow,” she says when he’s finished. “Okay, so, you two are dumbasses, and I’m gonna have words with both of you. But first, we’re gonna find Cas. Hang on.” He hears keypunching for some time. “He didn’t fly...okay, looks like he took an Uber to an Enterprise in Des Moines, then rented a car from there this morning. Don’t ask me how I know. Fine, I have access to his credit cards, okay? He knows about it. Anyway, so if he said in the letter that he’s going home, I assume that’s where he’s headed. He was planning to stop in before taking off again, anyway.”

“Okay, but why wouldn’t he answer me? He could talk to me on speaker.”

“He probably needs some space, Dean.”

“Yeah, okay, but to not answer at all after several calls in a row? Doesn’t seem like him. Can you try? Please?”

She sighs. “Yeah, I’ll try. Hang on.” He listens to soft pop music while on hold, the same music he was subjected to while trying to get to Charlie. It grates at his fragile nerves. “Dean? Still there?”

“Yeah. Reach him?”

“It went right to voicemail. I left him a message, but he _ always _ picks up for me. _ Always._”

“See? Told you it wasn’t like him. Even when I was busting his ass about Baby before our road trip, he always answered.”

“Yeah, he’s usually good about that. So he’s either super upset and doesn’t want to talk to _ anyone_, or…” She trails off, as if distracted. 

“What, Charlie?”

Keys clack in the background. “Or, um...maybe something happened...”

“Something...no, wait, what do you mean, something—”

“Lemme call you back.”

It feels like an eon before his phone rings. He fumbles it in his haste to answer. “Hey. Did you hear from him?”

“Not a word. Um...you guys are having some nasty weather your way?”

“Yeeeeahhh...pretty heavy rain, wind gusts. Why?”

“Well, it’s been messing with flights some, too, so I checked around and...uh, well, there was a twenty-car pileup on I-80 near Iowa City. Police reports are still coming in, but I found out—don’t ask how—that a car matching the make and model of Cas’ rental was involved.”

“No,” Dean croaks, tears building once again as his stomach lurches.

“It might not be him, okay? But just in case, I’m gonna call the hospitals in the area.”

“I’m going.”

“Dean—”

“I’m _ going_. He has to be at one of ‘em, or if he’s not, I’ll go to his house. Text me his address.”

“Okay, okay. Go. I’ll call you as soon as I have info.”

Dean looks for the car keys, finding them under his wallet. He grabs his things, throws himself into Baby, and tears out of the parking lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooh...so, thoughts? Sorry to leave you hanging once again. (Or am I? 😘😂) And sorry for no Cas’ perspective in this chapter. ❤️ It was getting rather long, so...


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You never find the treasure without work.

Castiel is not having a good day.

First, he had to leave Dean, the man he loves. Second, he doesn’t have Baby anymore. Third, his phone is destroyed. And now, he’s sitting on the edge of a bed in an examination room at Mercy Hospital in Iowa City, Iowa, arguing with a physician. 

After taking an Uber from the hotel (crying uncontrollably all the way and making the ride very awkward for both him and the driver) to an Enterprise and then waiting outside under eaves that did nothing to protect him from the driving rain for nearly three hours before the business opened, he figured at least the inconvenient part of his horrible day was over. He was wrong. He’d been on Interstate 80 a couple of hours when he saw the accident happening ahead of him. He slowed, thinking he’d make it without getting trapped in the pileup. He almost did, but another vehicle didn’t slow down in time and slammed into the corner of his rear bumper, turning him enough for another one to slide into the driver’s side door. Thankfully, his injuries weren’t life-threatening...which means, now that he’s spoken with the police and gotten patched up, he just wants to go home and lick his wounds.

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Dr. Price. I can drive one-handed,” he grumbles. “It’s not even my dominant arm that’s broken.”

“Yes, but we are concerned that you suffered a mild concussion as well.”

“I’ll stop if I need to, and I won’t play the radio.”

“Sir, it’s only been a short time since the accident, and you have no one with you. We’d at least like to observe you for a while longer to make sure you’re well enough to drive safely.”

“I’m fine. I’m sure you have other patients who could use the bed, and frankly, I’ve had one of the worst days of my life, and I just want to go home.”

“Mr. Novak…”

“Sign me out AMA. I’m leaving. I—”

“You.”

Both Castiel and the physician turn to the door in surprise, though for vastly different reasons. “Dean? What—”

“You,” he repeats as he stalks toward the bed. He takes his face in his hands, which hurts a little thanks to the burns from the airbag. Dean’s eyes are red and puffy; his voice is strained. “You are so lucky you already got your ass kicked by the accident, or I’d be kicking it right now.”

“Dean—”

“Excuse me, who—”

“You told me you love me in a _ letter_? And then _ leave_? And then almost get yourself _ killed _ before we could even—”

“Hey! You! Who are you and why are you bursting into my ED, putting your hands on my patient? Remove your hands and see yourself out, _ now_, or I will have—”

“No. No, he’s fine to be here,” Castiel assures her as Dean’s hands fall from his face. “Would you give us a few minutes, please?”

The physician looks between them skeptically. “All right. But if you need anything, just push the button. And you, watch it.” She backs out of the room, leaving the door open.

Castiel turns, swallowing his nervousness. “Dean—”

“Are you okay?” The words are shaky and tender, the touch softer and less urgent; Dean rests one hand on his shoulder and the other strokes just under a cut on his cheekbone. When he nods, Dean exhales through pursed lips. “Good. I was so fucking worried, Cas. When I found out your car was in the accident—”

“How did you know that?”

“After I read your letter, I called Charlie to find you ‘cause you weren’t answering me. She tracked you down.”

Castiel nods. He should’ve known. “My phone broke. Along with my arm.”

“Ohhhh, okay. Good.”

“Good?” He raises a brow. 

Dean blanches. “No, not good about your arm! I mean I—I thought you were ignoring me, so I'm glad you weren’t.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“I hoped you wouldn’t, but…” Dean shrugs half-heartedly. “You hurt anywhere else?”

“My hip is a little sore, but okay otherwise. They think I have a concussion. And believe it or not, the airbag burns hurt more than you’d think.”

Dean grimaces and stops stroking. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Ruefully, he adds, “At least I wasn’t in Baby, huh? That would’ve sucked.”

“Yeah. Thank God. No airbags in her. You could’ve gotten hurt worse.”

“Well, yes, but I meant that she would’ve been smashed up.”

Shaking his head, Dean says, “I don’t care about that.” 

Castiel tries to puzzle that out. Is his concussion worse than he thought?

“Hey,” Dean says, bringing his attention back. Tired green eyes rove his face. “Did you really think I had sex with you to get Baby?”

Castiel averts his eyes. “Well, I mean, not completely. But...you did say you’d stop at nothing. You wanted her, and our road trip was almost over, so.”

“Cas.” He looks up at his name. Dean smiles softly, but his eyes look sad. “No, Cas. You gave me what I wanted, and then you took it away when you left. I didn’t want you to give me Baby. I wanted you to give me a _ chance_. _ Us _ a chance. I wanted _ you_.”

“I...I thought you wanted Baby,” he stammers.

Dean shakes his head. “It stopped being about Baby.”

“But you love her.”

“I love you more.” 

Castiel’s heart leaps into his throat, rendering him mute. He stares at Dean with wide wonder, watching Dean’s eyes well up as he continues, “Yeah, I love her, but like you said, she’s a car. She’s important to me, but she’s not you, Cas. I’d take a sledgehammer to her myself if it meant I got to be with you.”

Imagining Dean destroying his past to have a future with him...it’s almost too much to believe. “Dean, no.”

“Cas, yes. If I had to choose between you and Baby, you’d win every time. Every single time.”

Blinking back tears himself, Castiel murmurs, “I—I didn’t think you—I didn’t want to hope you...” He trails off, overwhelmed. 

“I know. Believe me, I get it.” Dean’s lips twist into a frown. He trails his fingers though Castiel’s hair; the touch is gentle, intimate, and Castiel never wants it to stop. “I’m sorry it took awhile for me to pull my head out of my ass and straighten out my priorities. I was pissed at first, and all the old crap got in my head, and I had all these dreams that involved that car and my family and...I didn’t know what to do with all that, so I took it out on you. But then I got to know you. I’ve never met anyone like you, and I...I’ve never fallen in love before, so I didn’t have a clue for a while that it was happening.”

Castiel’s mouth drops open as he searches Dean’s face. He finds fear, hope, sincerity. No deceit. He has no reason to lie. _ He has no reason to lie. _

“My real dreams—the big ones that I thought would never happen for me—always involved Baby, but she was a supporting character, not the star. The star was the person I fell in love with. Never had a face for that dream person until you. Just didn’t know if you felt the same way, especially ‘cause we’ve only known each other for a couple of months and we spent half that time fighting ‘cause I was being an ass. I thought, though, that maybe, after last night, you did, or that you could, at least, over time, and that we could take the last couple of days of the road trip to...you know, talk about it. Then I woke up this morning, and the very thing I wanted more than anything was gone. My dream became a nightmare, you know? Knowing I lost that—lost _ you _—it hurt. It hurt so much.”

Castiel’s throat tightens. “I’m sorry. I had no idea. I know it was shitty and cowardly, what I did, especially since your father sort of did the same thing, but staying with you after what we shared, something that meant so much to me but I thought meant nothing special to you...I didn’t think I could do it. So I left you with what I thought you wanted, because I wanted you to be happy. I never, never meant to hurt you.”

“I know. I never meant to hurt you, either. Hell, Cas, if anyone should be apologizing here, it’s me. I was an asshole to you as soon as I found out about Baby, but you were right, and I just didn’t wanna listen. And you were nice to me anyway, taking me out on our trip, never making me feel like I was wrong for wanting her, putting up with all my bullshit attempts to get her back. That was some grade-A asshole stuff, doin’ that to you. Wasn’t even like me, man. It’s like I went crazy. And even when I wasn’t tryin’ to get her back anymore, you still thought I was because I never apologized for any of it or explained myself. I was busy falling in love with you, and you thought I was just putting on an act to get a car. Makes me feel like shit. God, you even gave me your body, believing that. That’s on me, and I can’t apologize enough for making you believe you should have ever put up with that shit from anyone. Fuck, you deserve so much better.”

It isn’t as if Castiel hadn’t thought of the points Dean’s making before now, but he didn’t experience it the same way Dean seems to think he did. “Dean, you were painfully transparent in your attempts,” he comforts him with a tiny smirk. “I never felt taken advantage of. Sometimes your attempts were even cute. And I could tell that, eventually, you ended up liking me as a person, even if you didn’t want to.” Dean chuckles and shakes his head; Castiel wipes a tear from Dean’s cheek. “And as for the sex, I wanted it. Yes, I thought it might be sort of a last-ditch attempt from you, but not completely…although that ‘package deal’ thing sort of threw me off.”

Dean groans. “That was just meant to be funny, not—ugh. Sorry.”

“Hey, I know that now. Anyway, I knew it wasn’t purely a quid pro quo thing. I knew you cared for me, and hell, I’ve had sex with people who cared about me a lot less, and vice versa. So don’t beat yourself up over that. 

“I guess, in all of this, the hardest part, the part I could never quite get my head around, was believing that you could want me as a partner, that you could ever fall in love with me. So even when I saw the signs—the way you looked at me, or how you held me and kissed me, or the ‘date,’ or when you stood out in the rain watching me, that night I told you about Salty and we ended up talking all night—I just couldn't quite believe them. Good things don’t happen in my love life—or they didn’t until now.”

Castiel stops talking and smiles at Dean shyly. Dean smiles back; a fresh tear clinging to Dean’s lashes drops to his cheek. “That was the night I figured it out, I think. Or stopped denying it in my head,” Dean says. “When I apologized, I think I thought I was covering it all, you know? Every shitty thing I’d done to that point. Because I realized that I was worried about you, and I didn’t want anything bad to happen to you because you were just...awesome, and I had all these feelings, and...yeah. After that, my plan changed, you know? I had this dumb plan to get Baby back by winning you over—”

“Yes. Like I said, you were rather transparent.”

“Yeah, okay, smart guy. But then I modified it and it became winning you—enjoying you, showing you I cared, trying to figure out if you felt the same so we could give this thing a chance if you did. You didn’t see that one, bud.”

Castiel hums. “Denial makes a thick blindfold.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that. It’s on me, though. I shouldn’t have expected you to figure it out. It was a good plan with great intentions, but I missed a really fucking important step by not telling you what I was doing.”

“Would’ve helped,” Castiel teases.

“Yeah, I know. Sorry. I think I was just scared. With the screwed up life I’ve had, it’s hard for me to believe anyone would want to stick around, so it’s hard to put myself out there.”

Castiel gasps—he’d been so afraid of triggering that belief in Dean when he left the way he did. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to stay with you so badly, I almost turned around at every single exit, you don’t know how much—”

“Hey, no, I do, I do. Heh, maybe this is another reason why relationships didn’t work out for us in the past, huh? We get so stuck in our own heads sometimes that we don’t realize there are any other truths besides the ones we’ve cooked up.”

Castiel chuckles ruefully. “Yes. Plus we’re both quite stubborn.”

“No argument there. We are two very stubborn people who need to use our words.” Dean grins crookedly, and Castiel grins back, nodding in agreement. “So let’s do this right, okay?” Dean takes Castiel’s right hand, his left mostly unavailable thanks to the splint. “I love you, Castiel. I love you more.”

“I love you more, Dean.” He lifts their joined hands to wipe away a tear. He doesn’t think he’s cried this much in a day since his mother died, or maybe Salty. At least the tears are happy ones now, he thinks as he looks in Dean’s eyes.

Dean thumbs at the scratches on his face. “Can I kiss you, or would that hurt too much?” 

Eagerly, Castiel leans forward, showing Dean his answer. The kiss has a sweet heat to it, a pleasant burn that stays in the heart long after it leaves the lips. It’s full of the promise of something new and very, very good, and Castiel knows that whatever happens, he’ll remember it forever. 

“So, we’re really gonna try?” Dean asks.

“Yes. I really want to try. Just...be patient with me?” Castiel pleads. He’s so happy he has Dean and so afraid his own idiosyncrasies will tear them apart.

“Long as you’re patient with me, angel. I mean, more than you already have been.”

Castiel chuckles and kisses him again, gently. “Yes.” He rests his head on Dean’s shoulder. His head and neck are starting to hurt more, and his arm and hip don’t feel so great, either. The pain medication is probably wearing off, he thinks. He yawns. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Hey, none of that. You okay?”

“Starting to hurt again. They think I have a concussion.”

Dean wraps his arms around him; his warmth feels so good. It’s taking the chill out of his bones that’s been there since he left their hotel room. “I’m gonna drive you home in your Baby,” Dean murmurs, then kisses his head. 

Castiel sits back. “Your Baby.”

“No. Yours.”

“I signed her over to you.”

“Well, I didn’t sign a damn thing. I was too busy chasing after the guy I love. She’s yours. You need her for your road trips to go hunt for cars and take your pretty pictures of weird shit.”

“Dean—”

“I’m driving you home in _ your _Baby, and I’m gonna stay and take care of you. End of story.”

Castiel holds Dean’s determined stare for a moment. “Drive me to your house instead?” 

Dean’s happy smile is rivaled only by Castiel’s.

The doctor seems to feel better about discharging him now that he has someone with him (though still doesn’t seem entirely fond of Dean), so after some paperwork they’re on the road in Baby, a car he certainly never thought he’d see again. He also never thought he’d be next to Dean again, and definitely not with his hand in Dean’s gentle grasp. He sleeps through most of the ride to Sioux Falls, injured yet happier than he’s been in...well, a long, long time.

Dean’s an excellent nurse, fussing over him for days before Castiel practically pushes him out the door to go back to work. He’s an even better boyfriend, sweet and attentive, making him feel so comfortable and so loved that it’s hard to believe they were ever at odds. He’s the Dean he met when he first came to Sioux Falls, the Dean he saw even behind the attempts to get Baby back.

“Hey, babe,” Dean calls when he arrives home from his first day back at work. His hands are full; he sets them on the couch next to him. “For you. Cookies from Christa, car magazines from Sam, and this from me.” He leans down and captures his lips in a kiss. “Got stuff to make burgers and dogs, too.”

“Mmm, that kiss was my favorite gift. Don’t tell Sam and Christa.”

Dean chuckles and kisses him again. Castiel clutches his shirt, tugging him onto his lap. 

“I gotta make dinner,” Dean protests.

“Are you starving?”

“No…”

“Well, I am. For you.” Castiel opens Dean’s mouth with his tongue, plunging into it over and over. 

Dean moans. “Your head, babe…”

“Is fine, _ babe_. Now, are we going to eat together, or am I eating alone?” To illustrate, Castiel slips his hand from Dean’s shirt to his own pants, rubbing at his straining erection. “I’d rather eat with you, but I’ve eaten alone plenty and I’m quite good at it.”

Dean’s expression transforms from worried to wanting. “Stop that,” he growls, batting Castiel’s hand away and replacing it with his own. “As long as you want me around, you never have to be alone again.”

He thinks Dean meant to continue the innuendo and say “eat” instead of “be,” judging by his sudden blush and panicked expression. His own expression softens in response. “Thank you,” he whispers. His boyfriend’s face relaxes. They gaze at each other for a moment before he says, “Dean. Want you.”

Dean stands and takes his hand, then leads him to his bedroom. 

Unlike the last time they had sex, both of them understand exactly what this is. Their feelings are bared along with their bodies, which take their pleasure in each other as Dean, straddled over him, undulates along Castiel’s shaft. Castiel, watching him rise and fall, finds himself thinking of the future, one he hopes will always look just like this. “Is it crazy that we fell in love so fast?” he blurts. 

Dean stops and combs his fingers through his hair. “Probably.”

They smile at each other as they resume, keeping their eyes locked until they come, one after another. 

“Are you really worried about us falling in love so fast?” Dean asks him as they sit in the afterglow.

“Not really. But I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about it at all.”

“Yeah. I have, too. But it’s important. I mean, there are things in your life that you don’t think a lot about because they don’t matter much—like what you’re gonna get on your hot dog—”

“Don’t even go there. We’ve talked about this.”

“You Chicago weirdos with your hot dog toppings _ in order_…”

“It’s sacred!”

Dean laughs, and Castiel laughs, too, knowing Dean is playing with him. “Seriously, though. It’s fun to be in love, but it’s gonna be work, too. You still on board?”

Castiel slides his not-broken arm around Dean’s neck and draws him closer. “You know, my mom always said, ‘You never find the treasure without work.’ My experiences have proven that. Cars, people, relationships...they’re not that different. If you put in the work and the time, you find so much beauty.”

“So much treasure. And so much _ to _treasure,” Dean adds. “Damn, Cas, you’re making me a sap.”

Castiel scoffs. “Sure. Like you weren’t one already.”

“How dare you. I’m a strong, independent man.”

“Who’s a sap.”

“Oh, that’s it. I’m putting the toppings on your dog out of order.”

“You monster. I knew you were too good to be true.”

Castiel cries out in surprise as Dean pokes his fingers into his ribs, yelling something about having a rib fetish after all. He has a fleeting thought that the work this relationship will take will be totally worth it before he succumbs to the tickle torture and the kisses that follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re curious about the Chicago Dog thing: [Chicago Dog recipe](https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/134483/chicago-style-hot-dog/)
> 
> One chapter to go! See you soon for one more surprise. 🥰


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s ride.

_ Two years later _

The entire gang is gathered in the backyard of Dean and Castiel Winchester’s home in Sioux Falls. The men have changed out of their wedding garb and into shorts and t-shirts—traveling clothes. 

Their destination: Montana, for two weeks of camping.

Their transportation: Baby, of course. Or so Cas thinks.

“He’s going to love it, don’t worry,” Charlie, now a close friend, assures Dean.

“I sure as hell hope so.”

“He will. Don’t sweat your nads off.”

“Keepin’ it classy, Christa. What a gem Teddy has in you.”

Christa throws out her hands. “Hey, I do what I do.”

Charlie giggles. Christa links arms with her and they trot off toward Eileen. _ Troublemakers. _ The three of them met when Charlie came to see Cas after his accident a couple of years ago and the women became fast friends, keeping in touch online. 

“Your house is fuckin’ _ huge, _dude,” Ash, his newest employee, comments when Dean grabs a beer from the bar set up by the deck.

“Was half this until Cas came around. He wanted to build a bigger garage, and he figured the rest of the house would seem kind of small in comparison. Plus, we have a lot of family and friends from Illinois who come to visit.”

“Right, right. Sweet setup, dude.”

“It is.”

Dean’s former ranch-style house is now two floors, and the property boasts a five-bay garage. One bay is for Baby, two more are for their year-round vehicles, one is for whatever Cas’ current project is, and the fifth one is for lawn equipment. For now.

Cas is flitting around, his family keeping him occupied. Dean takes a moment to drink him in, the man just as gorgeous in casual clothes as he was in his formal ones (the ones that are currently crumpled on the floor in their bedroom). He had no idea that the man he wanted to get sleazy with when he walked into his shop (and who he later thought _ was _ a sleaze with the whole Baby thing) would eventually become his husband. It took a lot of work, a lot of sorting out expectations and getting over their hangups, but it was all worth it. He’s happier than he ever thought he’d be. He has everything he ever wanted.

Bobby sidles up to him. “Sam’s on his way back,” he murmurs. 

Dean swallows. “Thanks.”

“It’s gonna be fine.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Don’t be an idjit.”

“I know, I know.”

A few minutes later, Dean gets the text. He meets Sam in front of the house, and they stand back and gawk.

“Man,” Dean mutters, nodding appreciatively.

“Yeah. You did awesome, Dean.”

“We’ll see.”

“He’s gonna love it.”

Dean sighs. “I hope so.”

Cas hasn’t had a car that’s been “his” for a while now. Oh, he’s had projects, yes, but he hasn’t quite found another to love just yet. He has Baby, of course, and he loves her, but she’s Dean’s. Officially, anyway. The stubborn bastard gave her to him for his birthday a few months after they started dating. Dean accepted, but only because Cas insisted. It made him happy, which was the real gift to him. Seeing Cas happy is all he ever needs.

He hopes he’ll be happy with this.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Stop worrying. Let’s get stuff moved from Baby.” When that’s finished, Sam drags him back to the party.

Making eyes with Christa across the lawn, Dean nods. She stands on the stone wall circling their patio and whistles. “Hey! Everyone! Eyes up here! The less-handsome groom has something he wants to say!” She stretches her hand out, indicating that he should come over and take her place.

“Thanks a lot, loudmouth,” he mutters as he passes her.

“Love you, Dean,” she smiles, blowing him a kiss.

“Yeah, yeah, love you.” Dean turns to their guests and shouts, “Okay! So, my devastatingly handsome groom and I are gonna get out of here. But first, there’s something I want you all to come see. I have a present for my new husband. Come up here, angel.”

Most of the crowd smiles and _ aww _ s, but Cas’ brother yells “Our innocent eyes don’t wanna see what your present for your new husband is!” Everyone breaks into laughter. Cas gives him the finger as he passes him. _ Ah, that’s my husband_, he thinks with a grin.

“You weren’t supposed to get anything for me. We agreed.”

“I lied.”

“Dean.”

“Shh. Let me blindfold you.”

“Kinky!” 

Cas flips his brother off again, but does give Dean an interested arch of his brow. “Later,” Dean whispers, pecking Cas’ mouth as he ties the blindfold on.

Their guests file into the front, then Dean guides Cas until he’s positioned perfectly. “Okay, so, this all started with a car, one that you poured your heart and soul into and then gave to me because you loved me more. Well, this is something I poured my heart and soul into, and I hope you love her. Just not more than me.” The crowd giggles. 

“No worries there,” Cas smiles, squeezing his hand.

“Okay. Here we go.” He takes the blindfold off and waits, watching Cas as he opens his eyes. 

“Dean!” Castiel gasps, hands flying to his mouth. “What—oh my God, is she mine?”

“All yours, babe.”

Before him is a heavenly girl, truly a stunner. She’s a ‘69 Camaro with the original blue paint and white stripes, completely restored as if she just came off the showroom floor. And she’s a _ convertible._ Just like his mother’s. 

Memories of his mom flood his mind as he circles the beauty before him—taking rides with the top down, tinkering under the hood, sitting on the shores of Lake Michigan, their talks, their trips. His chest tightens. “Dean. She’s beautiful.”

“You really like her?”

Castiel returns to his new husband and wraps an arm around his back. “I love her. She’s perfect. Did you restore her?”

“I did. Took me a little while.”

“Took him a year!” Sam shouts. 

“Well, had to work on her between jobs at work.” He shrugs modestly. 

“You did a perfect job. Not that I’m surprised.” Dean blushes, and Castiel can’t resist a kiss to his pinkened cheek. “Where did you find her?”

“Had Christa and Charlie scouring ads. Christa found her in Kentucky. Remember when you went on that photography retreat?”

“The New Zealand one?” What a workshop that had been. It even helped him become published.

“Yeah. Well, while you were gone, Sam, Teddy and I went to Kentucky and picked her up.”

“Dean drove like a friggin’ grandma!” Teddy calls out. 

“I didn’t want anything to happen to her!”

“He was _ very _ careful with your girl,” Sam says, supporting his brother. 

“He always has been careful with the kids,” Castiel jokes about their vehicles. He squeezes Dean around the waist. “I love how careful you are.”

“Thanks, babe. So anyway, yeah, Kentucky. Only two owners, both badass women. Reminded me of what you told me about your mom. Plus she’s blue, like your eyes. Figured it was meant to be, you know?”

“Wow.” Castiel caresses the hood, his hand gliding along the sleek surface. “Mom would’ve loved her. Does she have a name?”

“Yeah, and you’re not gonna believe it.” Dean takes his hands and grins. “Ready? It’ssssss...”

“Dean,” Castiel laughs as his goofy husband draws out the suspense. 

“Blue Angel,” he reveals. “Angel for short.”

“Angel.” Castiel swallows against the emotion swelling his throat. “That was my mom’s name for her Camaro.”

“And my name for you, too. See? Told you it was meant to be.” 

“It's a day for things that are meant to be.” Castiel draws Dean in for a long, firm kiss. “I can’t believe you did all this work for me.”

Dean tucks a piece of hair behind his ear, gently brushing his cheek on the way. “I’d stop at nothing to make you happy.”

“Dean.” Castiel draws him in again, the kiss far more passionate and lusty this time. “I love you more, sweetheart,” he declares, using the phrase they’ve used since they started dating. 

“I love you more, angel.”

“We love you both, but you all need to skedaddle,” Bobby grumps. 

“Yeah, you’re making us sick!” Charlie chimes in. Castiel laughs, knowing she’s one of their biggest supporters and loves how sickening they are. When Christa yells, “At least you don’t have to see their grossness on the daily!” Castiel laughs even more. Christa is a not-so-secret romantic. 

“We should go. We have a honeymoon to start,” Dean leers with a wiggle of his brows. 

Castiel flashes him bedroom eyes and a devilish grin. “I can’t wait.”

“Then let’s go, angel.” 

Dean hands him the keys. He palms them, feeling their weight. “Wait, Baby’s all packed—”

“Nope. Sam and I switched everything over. We’re ready.”

With one more kiss and a huge smile spreading across his face, he slides into the driver’s seat, Dean happily sliding into the passenger side. Castiel takes a moment to admire the interior, and that’s when he notices one more surprise on the center console—the heart-shaped rock from the Winchester time capsule, nestled in a box. 

“About time to fill our own capsule, don’tcha think?” Dean asks with a soft, sentimental grin. 

“Absolutely.” He pecks his husband’s lips, then starts the engine and lowers the top. They say goodbye to their family and friends and hello to sunshine and the open road, ready to make history. Together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming along for the ride! 🥰💙💚
> 
> All the love to Lorelei2005 for the great idea! This was a lot of fun to write, and though it ended up more angsty than I expected, I really love it (and I hope Lorelei2005 and all of you loved it, too)! 
> 
> The New Zealand photography retreat is a real thing. Check it out here: [NZ Photo Retreat](https://www.joshuacripps.com/shop/photography-workshops/new-zealand-photography-tour-workshop/)
> 
> My final FicFacers story will be posted this weekend. It’s a timestamp to We Are Not Poets, a honeymoon story full of fluff and goo. 😂


End file.
